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AUTHOR CAPES, WILLIAM WOLFE TITLE: ROMAN HISTORY PLACE: LONDON DA TE : 1876 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT Master Negative # BIBLIOGRAPHIC MICROFORM TARGET Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record f 87' 874 C17 Restrictions on Use: L. t^ummttmm i» I II II I I w a i u i M i«^|l**iW»— « Capes, William Wolfe, 1834-1914, ed. ^ Roman liistory. The early empire, from the assassina- tion of Julius Caisar to tliat of Doraitian. By W. W. Capes ... London, Longmans, Green, and co., 1876. xiv, i4i, 230 p. front, fgld. maps. 16"". (Half-title: Epochs of ancient history, cd. by G. VV. Cox and C. Sankey) 1. _kome — Mist. — Mmpirc, B. c. 30-A. d. 284. I^ibrary of Conj^rcss ( ) S-4 DG276.C22 ..£. ^ TECHNICAL MICROFORM DATA REDUCTION RATIO: [_IK_ FILM SIZE: 2_5^!^^ IMAGE PLACEMENT: lA (IIA IB IIB DATE FILMED:__5^ri52. INITIALS J>»_._LC HLMEDBY: RESEARCH PUBLICATIONS. INC WOODBRIDGE. CT '■frZTT" „t tr rf- .iJ, c Association for Information and Image Management 1100 Wayne Avenue, Suite 1100 Silver Spring, Maryland 20910 301/587-8202 Centimeter 1 2 3 JIM MM IMMIMIIMIMIMIII iIimiImmI 4 5 6 mmImmImmImmImmImi 7 8 ImmIiimI IMMIIMMMIMIMMMMIIMMM 10 11 miImmImmImi 12 13 14 15 mm m mImmImmImmImm TTT Inches I Til I I I I I I I I 2 rrr 1.0 I.I 1.25 T TTT TTT TTT m 1^ 3.2 13.6 4.0 lUI&u. 1.4 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 MPNUFFICTURED TO flllM STRNDRRDS BY fiPPLIED IMRGE, INC. "PV ¥1% flfrMWiiiiinriftfel>Aill^iTtfB6rTaiii-»iiiarriifcrtWfai.'BBfi,Trii fci^fig^aflb=^^*^-^^ Epochs of Ancient History EDITED BY i REV. G. W. COX, M.A. and CHARLES SANKEY, M.A. ROMAN HISTORY— The EARLY EMPIRE W. W. CAPES, M.A. LONDON : PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STKEST SQUARE AND PARLIAMENT STREET < London.: LorvjrruxnjS J[- Co. EavrfWeller ROMAN HISTORY THE EARLY EMPIRE ■ . ( FROM THE ASSASSINATION OF JULIUS CiESAR TO THAT OF DOMITIAN BY W: W^ CAPES, M.A. LATE FELLOW AND TUTOR OF QUEEN's COLLEGE, AND READER IN ANCIENT HISTORY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD WITH TWO MAPS X LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 1876 All rights reserved CONTENTS. -•o*- INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER. Rapid survey of the histor>' of Rome from the death of Julius Cassar to the battle of Actium PAGE i 4v * -^ CHAPTER I. AUGUSTUS: B.C. 3I— A.D. 14. The change in Octavianus after he gained absolute power, not a mere change of policy, but of temper and demeanour — The change in the forms of the constitution— The proposal to resign — He avoids the title of king, or of dictator— Had already taken the name of Caesar- Is styled Augustus— Takes the old repub- lican titles — The old offices of the executive — New offices created —The Senate — Privy Council — The government of the provinces — Senatorial provinces— Imperial provinces — General character of the new regime — The homely manners of Augustus — Liberal outlay for public objects — Ready acquiescence in these changes —The chief ministers of Augustus— Agrippa— His energy, self- sacrifice — Public works — Marries Marcella — Retires to Lesbos — Marries Julia — Dies — Maecenas — His diplomatic skill — The chief adviser of Augustus — Influenced the tone of Roman circles through the poets — His domestic trials— Livia — Sources of her influence over Augustus, and its nature — Suspicion of her smister dealings to secure the succession of Tiberius — Treatment of !10796 VI Contents. Agrippa Poslumus — Story of Livia poisoning Augustus — Julia — Her betrothals and marriages — Extravagance and profligacy at last made known to her father — Her banishment and misery — Disasters in Germany — Defeat of Lollius — Loss of Varus with three legions — Panic at Rome, and grief of Emperor — Augustus grew morose, and resented criticism — Leges majestatis enforced against authors — Ovid — Banished to Tomi — Augustus at last less popular at Rome than in the provinces — Died at Nola — His survey of the Roman world, and summary of official statistics, and advice to his successors — The Monumentum Ancyranum — Augustus deified — Explanations : i. Polytheism less scrupulous ; 2. Eastern peoples had defied their kings ; 3. The rationalising tendency; 4. The Italian worship of the Lares especially fostered by Augustus— Augustales page 6 Contents. Vll CHAPTER H. TIBERIUS: A.D. 14-37 The early life of Tiberius— Little liked by Augustus— His retirement to Rhodes— He wished to return to Rome, but was not allowed —His danger and suspense— Livia procures his recall and adop- tion by Augustus— He was usually away from Rome with the army— Recalled to the death-bed of Augustus— Precautions of Livia— Claim to succeed based on adoption and tribunicia po- festas — Consent of the legions all-important — They were in mutiny — Caution of Tiberius, and ambiguous language — He shrank from titles of honour and from flattery— Referred all busi- ness to the Senate, but neglected the popular assemblies and the amusements of the people— Seemed anxious to govern well— The great influence of Livia, now called Augusta— Her politic patronage of art— Tiberius showed jealousy of the honour paid to Augusta— Fear of Germanicus, who was recalled from Ger- many and sent on a mission to the East— The appointment of Cn. Piso to be governor of Syria— His offensive conduct to Germanicus, who believed that he was poisoned by Piso— Grief at Rome when the death of Germanicus was known— Popular suspicions— The people disliked Tiberius from the first— Reasons —The ' delatores ' of the Empire now first appeared— Their influ- •i 'I 1 ^ once under Tiberius, and increase in numbers — The character of Sejanus — His rise in power and favour — He schemed to re- venge himself on Drusus for the insult of a blow — Seduced Livilla, and poisoned Drusus, widened the breach between Ti- berius and Agrippina, and urged Tiberius to leave Rome — Tiberius retired to Capreag — The death of Augusta, followed by the fall of Agrippina and her children — The fate of Asinius Gallus — The great power of Sejanus at Rome, his haughtiness — Suspicions of Tiberius at length aroused — His dissimulation — The scene in the Senate-house, where the Emperor's letter is read, and Sejanus is dragged off to death— Cruelty of Tiberius — The trials and bloodshed at Capreos — His death — The pleas of later critics in favour of a new estimate of the character of Tiberius — The testimony of Valerius Maximus and Velleius Paterculus — The marks of bias and exaggeration in the common story — The assumptions as to the memoirs of Agrippina, and the guilt of the victims of Tiberius — Ancient writers have formed too harsh an opinion of his motives in some cases, and reported scandalous gossip too lightly PAGE 42 CHAPTER HL CALIGULA: A.D. 37-4I. rhe general joy at the death of Tiberius, and at the succession of Caius, named Caligula — The claims of the young grandchild of Tiberius were ignored — The general gladness — The Emperor's popularity and sense of power turned his head — He claimed divine honours — Could bear no rival greatness, as in the case of Seneca and Domitius Afer — Was jealous even of the dead — Thought himself raised above moral laws, and indulged in wild caprices — His devices to refill his exhausted coffers — Resorted to confiscation — Morbid ferocity — The campaign in Germany — Ludicrous close — His wild dreams of massacre . . .71 viii Contents. CHAPTER IV. CLAUDIUS: A.D. 41-54. The hesitation of the Senate after the murder of Caius — The soldie rs meantime saluted Claudius Emperor — In early life he had betm weak in mind and body — He had sorry treatment from Tiberii is and Caius, and indulged in coarse habits, but he had literary tastes- As Emperor he was ruled by wives and freedmen — TVie domestic position of the freedmen of Rome, and in the imperi al household — Their ambition and greed and opportunities of gain- ing wealth — Pallas — Narcissus — Polybius — Callistus — Felix — Posides — Claudius kept in good humour by his freedmen — His love for judicial work, and care for provisioning Rome — Want of dignity in his proclamations — A campaign and victory arranged for him — Scandalous traffic of the freedmen — They confiscate the property of the rich by working on their master's fears — His wives — Messalina — Her unbounded wantonness and cruelty — At last she causes public scandal by marr>'ing Silius — Narcissus tells Claudius, and procures her death — Debate among the freedmen as to the choice of a new wife — Agrippina, his niece, carried oft" the prize, and showed at once her intention to rule supreme — Had Octavia betrothed to her son, and the trusted servants of Britannicus removed — Afraid of Narcissus and delay, she had Claudius poisoned— The satire of Seneca on the deification of Claudius page 81 Contents. IX CHAPTER V. NERO: A.D. 54-68. The early life of Nero— Saluted as Emperor by the soldiers— His mother, Agrippina, tried at first to govern, but Burrhus and Seneca took her place and ruled in his name— He showed a passion for the fine arts and for low dissipation— His impatience of his mother's restraint— Treatment of Britannicus and Octavia— The attempts to poison Agrippina failed— The dark scheme to drown her in the Bay of Naples— Its failure followed by her murder— Burrhus and Seneca defended the deed— Nero gave himself up I f ' to his pleasures, drove freebom Romans on the stage, and at last appeared on it himself— Nero had a real love of art, but the art was bad— Nero's extravagant display, especially in building —The great fire of Rome— The strange rumours of his conduct and suspicions— He had the ' Golden House ' built for him— —Its most privileged inmates— To turn suspicion from himself Nero made the Christians his victims and his scapegoats— His victims generally of a higher rank— His aunt— His wife Octavia —Poppoea— Burrhus— Seneca spared for a time— Philosophers were looked on with distrust— Stoicism especially distasteful to the prince, but spread rapidly through society— The character and fate of Thrasea Paetus, of Seneca, and of Corbulo— Other victims— Lucan fell into disgrace at court— Took part in a con- spiracy and lost both life and honour— Petronius Arbiter excited the jealousy of Tigellinus, and died with frivolous indifference— The rising in Britain and great loss of life and other disasters of the lime— The revolt of Vindex in Gaul, taken up by Galba after the death of Vindex— Nero's indifference at first, followed by despair— He fled to a freedman's house and hid himself, then at last found nerve to kill himself— Strange affection for his memory shown by some of the populace— Pretenders appeared in his name PAGE 99 CHAPTER VI. GAI.BA : A.D, 68-69. The career of Galba before his accession— As governor of Spain he had only a small force— Rival pretenders rose and fell, and Galba made his way to Rome without a struggle, but preceded by ugly rumours— Discontent of the marines, praetorians, legion- aries, and city populace, of Nero's servants and favourites, and of the Senate— The favourites of Galba shamelessly abuse their power- Galba adopted Piso as his colleague, but Otho intrigued with the soldiers of the guard, and was saluted Emperor— Galba set out for the camp, but while on his way was set upon and killed, and Piso, who had fled to sanctuary, was killed at the temple steps X Contents. CHAPTER VII. OTHO : A.D. 69. Otho's early career of dissipation — Of better repute in provincial rule — Returned to Rome with Galba and displaced him — He gained the soldiers' loyalty and love — But the armies of the Rhine had chosen Vitellius, and were on the march to Rome — After fruitless overtures of peace, Otho marched to meet them — His generals urged delay, but he would not wait — His army was routed on the battle-field of Bedriacum, and he died by his own hand page 128 Contents. XI CHAPTER VIII. VITELLIUS: A.D. 69. Ihe antecedents of Vitellius — Sent by Galba to command the army on the Rhine — Glutton and spendthrift though he was he won the affection of the soldiers — Valens and Coecina, being disaffected to Galba, stir the army and put Vitellius forward ; he is proclaimed Emperor — The march into Italy and victory of Bedriacum— The entry into Rome of the soldiers of the Rhine with Vitellius — His favourites governed while he feasted — But in the East Vespasian was soon in arms — The treachery of Bassus and Ctecina, and second battle of Bedriacum — Sad fate of Cremona — Vitellius tried to abdicate but was prevented by the soldiers, who stormed the Capitol — In the fray the temple of Jupiter was burnt — Antonius entered Rome and slaughtered the Vitellians — Vitellius was dragged from his hiding-place and slain ........... 102 CHAPTER IX. VESPASIAN: A.D. 69-79. The humble origin and chequered career of Vespasian— He is sent to command in Judaea— He showed his skill and won the soldiers' trust— Titus and Mucianus pressed him to make himself Em- peror, and he consented with reluctance— The rebellion in Gaul and Germany : Its causes, early successes, and speedy failure- Vespasian restored order at Rome— The causes of the insurrec- tion in Judeea, and earlier relations of the Jews to Rome— A hasty rising at Jerusalem spread widely till Vespasian was sent to command the army-The siege of Jerusalem was left to Titus to finish— The obstinate defence and utter destruction of the city and temple— The triumph after the Jewish war as described by Josephus— The economy and homely tastes of Vespasian- He needed and raised a large revenue, and imposed new tolls and taxes— But the money was well used for public objects— He was free from jealousy and suspicion, yet was persuaded to put to death Helvidius Priscus, and also J. Sabinus, in spite of the story of his wife's faithful love— Vespasian worked hard and died in harness— The characteristic jest at his funeral . PAGE 141 CHAPTER X. TITUS : A.D. 79-81. The bright prospects of the early life of Titus-His ambitious hopes and intrigues in Judaea-Skill in the siege and cruelty to the prisoners— He shared the imperial power with his father, and studied magnificence of outward show— Money was spent largely on great works- His relations with Berenice were so unpopular that he had to yield— Sinister rumours about him— The change after his fathers death— His courtesy and liberality made him loved, and universally lamented— The disasters of the time— The eruption of Vesuvius— The account of the younger Pliny— The scene at Pompeii, and various forms of death and ruin— The objects since collected ^5:> CHAPTER XI. DOMITIAN : A.D. 81-96. Domitian's early life and danger from the soldiers-Sudden change turned his head-He was kept in strict tutelage by Vespasian- He ill requited the tenderness of Titus-His power of self- restraint as Emperor and wish to rule well-He discouraged informers and legacies to himself-The probable causes of the marked change of temper-His complete failure as a general- ■lTiisrf.-f jlff illl lfe ^ 3 ' xu Contents. Conspiracy against him — Want of money— His numerous victims— The Philosophers— Apollonius of Tyana— The gene- rals — Julius Agricola — Literary' men — Martial — Statius — Juvenal— Tacitus— Domitian assasijinatcd by his wife and freed- PAGE 164 men CHAPTER Xn. THE POSITION OF THE EMPEROR. The Emperor virtually the source of law : he interprets the law, and enforces it, as head of the executive— His powers unique in kind, without check or balance— There was no escape from the Emperor's power, nor for him — His power was based on military force, but his policy was commonly not warlike— Little police force needed ^73 CHAPTER XHL THE RIGHTS OF ROMAN CITIZENSHIP The citizens of Rome a mixed race— Their rights and privileges- Jus suffragii— Jus honorum— Right of appeal— Immunity from personal violence— Jus exilii— Freedom of speech and writing- Religious hberty— Right of assembly— Right to food . . 176 CHAPTER XIV LIFE IN THE PROVINCES. Great variety of political status in the provincial towns, and large amount of self-rule— Scanty reference in literature to the life of the provincial towns— Fuller details in the inscriptions — The executive officials, duumviri juri dicundo, sediles, quaestors, quinquennales — The town council or ordo decurionum — Popular assemblies -- Offices were burdensome rather than lucrative — Public spirit and munificence — The attractions of Roman culture — The liberal outlay of the rich lightened the burdens of local government — General well-being — Evidences of improvement and of prosperity— But no guarantees of permanence . 181 Contents. xiii CHAPTER XV. THE STATE OF TRADE. The early contempt for industrial art at Rome — The contempt ex- tended to professions and the fine arts — Disdain of retail trade did not extend to commerce on a large scale — Growth of a class of merchant capitalists who enrich themselves without benefit to the world — What the Empire did for trade — It secured the roads and seas — Confined war to the frontiers — Removed a variety of hindrances — Diminished indirectly the supply of slave labour — Lessened the competition of war and politics — The Emperors favoured the higher branches of industrial art — Influence of Eastern sentiment — The higher status given to industrial classes through magistri vicorum — A vast system of free trade flourished — Balance of trade against Italy .... page 193 CHAPTER XVI. the growing depopulation of ITALY AND GREECE. The ominous signs of depopulation — Strabo's account of Greece — Polybius notices the diminishing military force of Italy — Re- marks of Livy — Pliny — Dion Cassius — ^Attempts of Augustus to meet the evil — The causes of decline : i. War ; 2. Changes from peasant proprietors to large estates with slave labour ; 3. Slavery was wasteful of life ; 4. Attraction of town life and discouragement to industry ; 5. Influence of vice and profligacy. 200 CHAPTER XVII. the frontiers and THE ARMY. The frontiers well defined — Dependent kingdoms and diplomatic relations — The pacific policy of the Empire — The standing army of Augustus, and the stations of the legions and of the fleets — The legions recruited from the distant provinces XIV Contents. were loyal and steadfast, and attached by many ties to their Imp -The moral qualities fostered in the camps by work and Sine-Two examples of the break-down of ^--P^^-^^^ pay and pensions of the soldiers and ' missio honesta page 206 CHAPTER XVIll. THE MORAL STANDARD OF THE AGE. The natural tendency to believe that there was a moral de^hne in the first century of the Empire: i. But satire is not fair evi- dence ; 2. Juvenal was too vehement to be fair ; 3. L^terat-e cieals ^ith the life of Rome ; 4. Complaints about luxury need to be carefully weighed ; 5. Philosophy became a g^^^tmojal powder -the case of Seneca ; 6. The change of tone and thought on the subject of slavery; 7. The change in the estimate of wo- men's character ; 8. The evidence of a higher tone in Pliny s letters CHAPTER XIX. THE Pr.VIVAL OF RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT Religion seemed to be losing its hold on the Romans of education- The policy of Augustus to strengthen the old religion-Reasons for believing that the reaction left enduring traces : i. The legends might be given up without loss of religious faith ; 2. The tone of philosophy was earnest and devout ; 3. The intro- duction of new creeds and rites ; 4- The change in the literary tone ; 5. Monumental evidence— Paganism died hard . 222 The Chief Orighial Authorities for the History of the First Century. Appian, ' Civil Wars ' : for the iDcriod of the civil struggle. Dion Cassius, ' Roman History.' Inscriptionum Latinarum Corpus : Auctoritate Acad. Berol. ed. Josephus : for the Jewish war. ' Monumentum Ancyranum v. Res gestoe divi Augusti ' : ed. Th. Mommsen. Pliny, ' Letters ' : for the close of the period. Plutarch, ' Lives of Julius Coesar, Cicero, Antonius, M. Brutus Galba, Otho." Seneca, in the historical illustrations of his moral treatises. Suetonius, ' Lives of the Caesars.' Tacitus, 'Annals and Histories.' Velleius Paterculus, for the reigns of Augustus and Tiberius. Of the poets : Horace, Juvenal, and Martial especially illustrate the history of the period. INDEX 227 If lMaaaw.;..*Hii O (/I 3 S ^ I/! .2 to u 3 C3 o Roman MAPS. N EMPIRE Fronthpitcc \ Ancient Italy To face p. i I M 9 en 3 3 > cS •4-* O o p II- (A u en 3 M s U 3 e o U o cS CJ o "^ U en a (A 3 C rt a "S a E o Ah d U rt IT. u t/i ■'5 3 rt rt > U Els' >: v-/ II u: rt 5 V. ^-1 <5 ^s .2 5 3 c tr t-H 3 *■£ -E> OS 0! ..2 c 3 •—• CS - SoD 3 JO CJ o c '=5 V- [i, O c4 Oh -35 u _-C/2 ROMAN HISTORY. THE EARLIER EMPIRE. Rapid sur- vey of the history of Rome from the death of Julius Caesar to the battle of Actium. I INTRODUCTION. The genius and statesmanship of Julius Cssar secured only a few years of absolute power, and had not time enough to shape the forms of empire, or carry out far-reaching plans. When he fell under the daggers of his murderers, he left no sys- tem of established rule, and no successor to replace him. The Commonwealth had been discredited by years of impotence ; anarchy at home misgovernment abroad had shown the break- down of the ancient institutions of the state, and the frail pant of liberty needed more to bring it back to healthy hfe than to be watered with the blood of CiEsar. But r,r *7°""S 0"^vi"s left his books at ApoUonia, and came to Rome to claim his rights, few couW have had senous fears of his ambition, or could have foreseen in him the man who was to close the drama of the great Republic and bring the Empire on the stage. For he h^nf^f^^'M r ?f ' ^' >'" '" P""'<^ "f^' ^^= known to be of feeble health, had given no proof of genius or of self-reliant courage. Sent on before to the advanced 2, The Earlier Empire. b.c. 44-3i- camp in Epirus, to be ready for campaigns in the far East he was startled from his round of rhetoric and drill by the news of his great uncle's murder. He crossed the sea -without delay ; and hearing on his way ^■'^- -*♦• that his kinsman's will had named him heir, he took at once the name of Caesar Octavianus, and hurried on to claim his heritage at Rome. His mother told him of her fears, his stepfather urged the need of caution, and pointed to the dangers in his way ; but he persisted, though almost alone, and though he saw the need to be resolute and wary. The daggers that had been sharpened against Julius might be drawn upon himself, it he spoke too openly of vengeance, or appealed at once to the soldiers and the people. The name that he had just assumed had an ominous sound in the ears of Senate and of nobles ; and M. Antonius, the old confidant and partisan of Caesar, by right of his authority as con- sul had taken the reins of power into his hands, had gained possession of the treasures and the papers of the fallen ruler, and was in no mood to share them with a rival claimant. The conduct of Octavianus, though bold, was very pohtic and far-sighted. Resolved at any cost to show respect for the last wishes of his kinsman, he drew largely on the means of his family or friends to pay the lecxacies bequeathed by Csesar to every citizen of Rome, and defrayed even the expenses of the public shows that had been promised. He paid his court with tact to the members of the Senate, and talked of amnesty and peace ; put on a show of winning deference for the leaders of the moderate party, and for Cicero above all, and fed their hopes, that they might find in his growing popularity a harmless counterpoise to the violent ambition of Antonius. Even when forced at last to arm in self-defence, and to levy troops among the veterans of Caesar, he courted the old statesman still ; he played upon his vanity, and called m B.C. 44-31- hitrodiiction. B.C. 43. him father. Affecting to draw his sword only in defence of the constitution and the Senate, he offered to serve with his own legions under the new consuls against Antonius, the common enemy of all loyal citizens. But he clearly read the jealous suspicions of the nobles, and had no mind to be used awhile and then thrown aside like a dishonoured tool. So, after the successes won at Mutina, which cost the lives of both the consuls, he flung away the mask that he had worn, came to terms of union with Antonius and with Lepidus, the governor of Gaul, and marched with his soldiers straight to Rome to wrest the consulship from the reluctant Senate. Then the era of Proscriptions opened, for the confederates agreed to cement their league with blood. Each marked his victims' names upon the fatal list, and each consented to give up adherents of his own to the greed or hatred of his colleagues. Meanwhile the Senatorian party, crushed at Rome, was gathering fresh strength beyond the seas. Brutus in Macedonia, Cassius in Syria, the foremost of the murderers of Cassar, had turned the provinces which they governed into one vast recruiting-ground for a last decisive struggle. When all was ready they combined their forces and offered battle to the enemies who had crossed over to attack them. Once more came the crash of mighty armies met again in civil war, and the battle-fields ^''^' '^^' of Philippi saw the fall of the last of the great republicans of Rome. The world lay prostrate at the conquerors' feet ; it remained only to divide the spoil. Antonius stayed behind to organise and rule the East. The Province of Africa was thought enough to content the absent Lepidus, while Italy and all the West fell to the portion of Octa- vianus. But still as the young schemer mounted higher the B 2 The Earlier Empire. B.C. 44-3 !• B.C. 44-31- Introduction. dangers seemed to thicken in his path, to test his hardi- hood and patient statecraft. He returned to Italy to find ;in exhausted treasury and half-ruined people ; veterans clamouring for their pay and settling with fierce eager- ness upon the promised lands ; peasants ousted from their homes taking to brigandage from sheer despair ; the city populace in no loyal mood to a master who had little to bestow ; while the wife and brother of his rival fanned the smouldering discontent, and vexed him sorely with intrigues, then flew to arms at last, and when beaten stood sullenly at bay within the beleaguered fortress of Perusia. The sea meanwhile was at the ^•^' ^'" mercy of the bold Sextus Pompeius, who scoured the coasts of Italy with galleys manned by motley crews of republicans who had fought under his father's lead, of pirates to whom that father's name had been once a sound of terror, of ruined victims of the late proscriptions, of slaves and runaways of every class. The corn-ships dared not venture near the blockaded ports, and prices mounted to famine height, till the starving population rose in fierce mutiny against their ruler ; while Antonius was on his way with a great fleet to call him to account for the treatment of his brother, who had hardly escaped with life from the horrors of the siege. But Italy was sick of civil war. The soldiers, tired of constant bloodshed, made their leaders sheath their swords and join in league and amity, in pledge of which Antonius took to wife Octavia, the sister of his rival, while Sextus bargained as the price of peace to keep his hold upon the islands and the sea, and Lepi- dus, displaced already from his office of command, held only in his feeble grasp the dignity and functions of High Pontiff". For six more years of divided power Octavianus schemed and toiled and waited. He secured his hold on Italy, calmed the elements of disorder in its midst, refilled the treasury and stocked the granaries, till he felt himself strong enough to defy Sextus on the seas and crush the bold buccaneer after many a hard-fought struggle. At last, but not till all was safe elsewhere, came the crisis of the duel with Antonius. Eastern luxury had done its work upon his passionate nature. Slothful self-indulgence, broken only by fitful moods of fiery energy, clouded his reason and unnerved his manhood. The Egyptian Cleo- patra had lured him with her blandishments and wound her snares around his heart, till Rome heard with indig- nation of the wrongs of the forsaken wife and of the orgies of the wanton pair. Nay, more, they heard that not content with parodying the names and attributes of foreign gods, they claimed the right to change the seat of empire and make Alexandria the new capital of the Roman world. Was the dignity of a chaste matron, it was asked, to be the sport of the minions of an Eastern court } Should Octavianus tamely wait to see the national honour further outraged, and the monstrous forms of un- couth worships instal themselves within the Seven Hills and drive the old deities from their venerable shrines,? The personal quarrel was transformed into a war of creed's and races. In place of the horrors of a civil struggle men thought only of the motley aggregate of foreign peoples arrayed at Actium in the extravagance of barbaric pomp against the discipline and valour of the West. In the actual conflict Antonius displayed neither a general's skill nor a soldier's courage. He fought, seem- ingly, to cover a retreat that had been planned before. Cleopatra's galleys gave the signal ^'^' ^^' for the flight, and the leader of what was now a hopeless cause hastened after her to Egypt, where he found dis- content and treachery spread around him. After a few months spent in moody despair or riotous excesses he died by his own hand, to be soon followed by his para- mour to his dishonoured grave. The Earlier Empire. B.C. 31— -A.D. 14. Augustus, 'ITie remark- able change in Octavi- anus after he gained abso- lute power CHAPTER I. AUGUSTUS: B.C. 3I— A.D. I4. The victory of Actium had made Octavianus the undis- puted master of the Roman world. One by one rivals and obstacles had been swept away, and the patient schemer had now mounted to the top- most round of the ladder of ambition. Dur- ing the troublous years of the long struggle for power his public life had been one course of selfish aims, unscrupulous acts, and makeshift policy ; he had yet to prove that there was anything of real and abid- ing greatness in his schemes to raise him from the ranks of mere ;")olitical adventurers. But from this time we may trace a seeming change of character, which is the more remarkable because it is so hard to parallel. It was no change of measures only, such as often not a mere comes with new conditions, such as that change of which made the founder of the dynasty po icy, reverse much of the policy of earlier years. For, spendthrift and prodigal as Julius had been be- fore, he used his power to curtail extravagance, sent police agents to the markets, and even to the houses of the wealthy, to put down luxury by force ; the leader of the popular party forbade the growth of guilds and social clubs like those which had often carried the elections in his favour ; the favourite of the populace was anxious to check the spread of pauperism by sterner measures ; the revolutionary general whose tent had been the refuge of the men of tarnished name and ruined fortunes baffled all their hopes of plunder, by passing stringent measures to restore credit and to curb official greed. Octavianus also in like case resorted to like policy. One of his first cares was to repeal the unconstitutional acts of his earlier life, and so to close the period of revolution. He took steps without delay to restore order and to strengthen the moral safeguards which years of anarchy and civil war had almost ruined. To this end he passed laws like those of Julius, and, unlike his kinsman, was enabled by his long tenure of power to carry out a conservative reform in morals and religion which left some enduring traces. But the change in character lay deeper far than this. He had shown while the struggle lasted a cruelty without excuse. Though possibly reluctant at the first , to engage in the proscriptions, he is said to per and have acted in them more relentlessly than emeanour. either of his colleagues ; he had his prisoners of war butchered in cold blood, mocked at their prayers for decent burial, and calmly watched their dying agonies. That he was hard and pitiless beyond the spirit of his times is implied in many stories of the day, and among others we read that when the captives of Philippi passed in bonds before their conquerors they saluted Antonius with marked respect, but vented their deepest curses on Octavianus to his face. But after Actium he showed what was for that age an unusual clemency. He spared his open enemies, he hunted out no victims, and professed even to burn the secret papers of his rival which might have compromised his partisans at Rome. The same gentler spirit breathes through the whole of his long period of rule. His jealous intolerance had led him once to drive a consul elect to suicide for a bitter word, and to fine or banish citizens of Nursia for honouring with a monument their dead who had fallen, as they wrote, in defence of freedom on the field of Mutina. But he was ready now to show respect to the memory of Pompeius, to let historians write the ^ 8 The Earlier Empire, B.C. 31— — A.D. 14. A ugtistus. praises of the great republicans of Rome, to congratulate the men of Mediolanum (Milan) for prizing the busts of Brutus, to listen calmly to the gibes vented on himself in popular satires or in dead men's wills, to let even lam- poons be scattered in the Senate House, and make no effort to hunt out the authors. His suspicious fears had made him once give orders for the instant execution of a curious bystander who had pressed in too eagerly to hear him speak in public, and put even to the torture a praetor who came to greet him, and whose hidden note-book was mistaken for a dagger ; but in later life he walked without an escort through the streets, went to and fro to join the social gatherings of his friends, and showed no fear of an assassin's knife. The cheerful cordiality and homely courtesies of his maturer age were a marked contrast to the cold, ungenial reserve of earlier days ; and those who find his real character hard to read may see perhaps a fitting symbol of it in the figure of the Sphinx which he wore upon his signet-ring. But this change of manner could not be an easy thing, and was probably not soon effected. There are signs The change which secm to show that constant watchful- to^bJe^iiy^' "^ss and self-restraint were needed to curb "lade. his natural temper, and that personal in- fluences were at work to help him. Though he was patient and merciful in most cases that were brought before him when on the seat of judgment, it is said that Maecenas, who was standing by, marked on one occasion the old blood-thirsty instinct reappear, and flung to him a hasty note with the words, 'Rise, Hangman!' written on Called for it. Another time, when stung by what was TnTsdf-""' uttered in the Senate, he hurried out abruptly, restraint. and excused himself afterwards for want of courtesy by saying that he feared his anger would sHp from his control. We are told that with others commonly, and even with Livia, his wife, he would not always trust himself to speak on subjects of grave moment without writing down the notes of what he had to say. In the gloom that settled on him in old age, when family losses and dishonour, coupled with national disasters, weighed upon his mind, the hard, unlovely features of his character, long hidden out of sight, seemed to come to light once more as the force of self-control was weakened by the laws of natural decay. Yet even with such reserves his history presents a spectacle almost unexampled of the force of will in moulding and tempering an ungenial nature, and of the chastening influence of sovereign rule. The signal victory just won, the honours voted by the servile Senate, the acclamations of the people, the license of unbounded power, might well have turned his head, as they proved fatal to the temper of many a later emperor; but the dagger of Brutus haunted his memory and warned him to beware of outraging Roman feeling. But, far beyond its effect upon his personal bearing, we may trace the influence of these warning memories on the work which lay before him, of giving The change shape and system to the future government of "f ^^j^^ q^_ Rome. Power and repute had passed away stitution. from the old forms of the Republic. The whole world lay at the feet of the master of many legions; it remained only to define the constitutional forms in which the new forces were to work. But to do this was no easy task. The perplexities of his position, the fears and hopes that crossed his mind, are thrown into dramatic form by the historian Dion Cassius, who brings a scene before our fancy in which Octavianus listens to the The debate conflicting counsels of his two great advisers J^.^^^ gj^^ Agrippa and Maecenas. The former is sup- Cassius. posed to paint in sombre colours the difficulties of a 10 The Earlier Empire. B.C. 31— — A.D. 14. A 2lgUStllS. II monarch's lot, to remind him of the warnings of the past and the dangers of the future, and strongly to urge him to copy the example set by Sulla, and after passing needful laws, and strengthening the safeguards against anarchy and license, to resign the outward show of power and come down from the dizzy pinnacle of greatness. Maecenas, on the other hand, counsels absolute rule, though masked by constitutional dis- guises, and describes at great length a system of cen- tralised government, in sketching which the historian drew mainly from the experience of his own later times, and with slight regard for strict historic truth, attributed to the inventive genius of Maecenas a full-grown system of political machinery which it took some centuries of imperialism to develop. But though we must regard the narrative in question more as the writer's own political theorising than as a sketch of matter of fact, yet there is little doubt that schemes of resignation were at some time discussed by the Emperor and by his circle of ad- visers. It is even possible, as the same writer tells us, The proposal ^^^ ^^ ^^^^ before the Senators at this time to resign. some proposal to leave the helm of state and let them guide it as of old. We are told that they were thrown into confusion by his words, and that, mistrust- ing his sincerity, or fearing the return of anarchy and the scramble for power that would soon ensue, they all implored him to withdraw his words and take back the power which he had resigned. The scene, if ever really acted, was but an idle comedy, and the offer could scarcely have been seriously meant, though there may have been some passing thought of it even at this time and still more at a later period, when he had long been sated with power and burdened with the cares of office. It is more probable that he was content with some faint show of resistance, when the Senate heaped their honours on his head, as afterwards when, more than once, after a ten years' interval, they solemnly renewed the tenure of his power. But we cannot doubt his sincerity in one respect — in his wish to avoid the kingly title and all the odious associations of the name. It had been from sincerely early times offensive to Roman ears : it had '"^'^hes to f. I , , avoid the grown far more so as they heard more of the title of King wanton lust and cruelty and haughtiness of Eastern mo- narchs, and they scorned to be degraded themselves to the level of their cringing subjects. The charge of aspiring to be king had often been an ominous cry in party struggles and had proved fatal to more than one great leader- it had been truly said perhaps of Caesar, and had largely helped to ruin him, and his successor was too wary to be dazzled by the bauble of a name. He shrank also from another title, truly Roman in its character, but odious since the days of Sulla ; and though ^^ . ^. the populace of Rome, when panicstruck by tator.. ''^' pestilence and famine, clamoured to have him made dictator, and threatened to burn the Senate as it sat in council if their will was not obeyed, yet nothing would induce him to bear the hateful name. But the name of Caesar he had taken long ago, after his Had already illustrious uncle's death, and this became '-^^enthe the title first of the dynasty and then of the cSIr? imperial office. Besides this he allowed himself to be styled Augustus, a name which roused no jealousy and outraged no Roman sentiment, yet vaguely implied some dignity and reverence from its long associa- j tion with the objects of religion. As such he Au^^sms. preferred it to the suggested name of Romulus, and allowed one of the months to be so called after him, as the preceding one of Julius had been named after his kinsman. With this exception he assumed no new 12 The Earlier Empire. B.C. 31 — ■A.D. 14. Augustus. 13 Takes the old repub- lican titles symbol of monarchic power, but was satisfied with the old official titles, which, though charged with memories of the Republic, yet singly corresponded to some side or fragment of absolute authority. The first of these was Imperator, which served imperator, ^^ connect him^with the army. The Z7nperiicm which the name expressed, had stood in earlier days for the higher functions, more especially for the power of the sword, which belonged to civil as well as military authority. But, gradually curtailed in other cases by the jealousy of the republic, it had kept its full meaning only in the camp ; the imperator was the general in command, or, in a still more special case, he was the victorious leader whose soldiers had saluted him upon the field of battle. JuHus, whose veterans had often greeted him with this title in many a hard-fought campaign, chose it seemingly as a fitting symbol of the new r^ghne, as a frank avowal of its military basis, and in this sense it was /ound convenient by his successors. It implied absolute authority, such as the general has over his soldiers, and the concentration in a single chief of the widespread powers entrusted to subordinate com- manders; it suggested little of the old forms of consti- tutional election, but appealed rather to the memory of the army's loyal acclamations, and gave a seeming claim to their entire obedience. The title of the tribunician power connected the monarch with the interests of the lower orders. In the Tribunicia ^^^^7 ^ays of privilege, when Rome was Potestas. parted into rival classes, the tribunes had been the champions of the commons. Sacrosanct or inviolate themselves, and armed with power to shield the weak from the license of magistrate or noble, they gradually assumed the right to put a veto or check on all public business in Rome. In the party struggles of the last century of the republic they had abused their consti- tutional powers to destroy the influence of the Senate and organize the popular movement against the narrow oligarchy of the ruling classes. Such authority was too important to be overlooked or intrusted in its fulness into other hands. The Emperor did not, indeed, assume the tribunate, but was vested with the tribunician power which overshadowed the annual holders of the office. It made his person sacred, not in the city only or in dis- charge of official acts, as in their case, but at all times and through the whole breadth of the empire. It gave him the formal right to call the meetings of the Senate, and to lay before them such business as he pleased, and thus secured the initiative in all concerns of state. Out of the old privilege of appeal to the protection of a tri- bune came the right of acquittal in judicial functions, which made the Emperor a high court of appeal from all the lower courts, and out of which seemingly has grown the right of pardon vested in the kings of modern Europe. The full meaning and extension of the title seems not to have been discerned at once, but once grasped it was too important to be dropped. By it suc- ceeding emperors dated the tenure of their power, as by the years of a king's reign, and the formal act by which the title was conferred on the kinsman or the confidant who stood nearest to the throne seemed to point him out for succession to the imperial rank. The familiar name of prince was one of dignity rather than of power. The '■ princeps senatus ' in old days had been the foremost senator of his time, distinguished by weight of character ^"""p^- and the experience of high rank, early consulted in debate, and carrying decisive influence by his vote. No one but the Emperor could fill this position safely, and he assumed the name henceforth to connect him with the Senate, as other titles seemed to bind him to the army and the people. H The Earlier Empire. B.C. 31— For the post of Supreme Pontiff, Augustus was con- tent to wait awhile, until it passed by death from the Potit'tfex feeble hands of Lepidus. He then claimed Maximus. the cxclusive tenure of the office, and after this time Pontifex Maximus was always added to the long hst of imperial titles. It put into his hands, as the highest functionary of religion, the control of all the ritual of the state ; it was a convenient instrument for his policy of conservative reform, and associated with his name some of the reverence that gathered round the domain of spiritual life. Besides these titles to which he assumed an exclusive right he also filled occasionally and for short periods most of the republican offices of higher rank, both in the capital and in the country towns. Potestas ^^ ^^^^ ixova time to time the consular Consuiaris. powcr, with its august traditions and impo- sing ceremonial. The authority of censor lay ready to his hands when a moral reform was to be set on foot, and a return attempted to the severity of ancient manners, or when the Senate was to be purged of unworthy members and the order of the equites or knights to be reviewed and its dignity consulted. Be- Proconsu- yond the capital the pro-consular power was lars. vested in him without local limitations, and gave him the right to issue his instructions to the com- manders of the legions, as the great generals of the repub- lic had done before. Finally he deigned often to accept offices of local dignity in the smaller towns throughout the empire, appointing in each case a deputy to discharge the duties of the post. The offices of state at Rome, The old meantime, lasted on from the Republic to offices of the the Empire, unchanged in name, and with executive. t**.i 1 r. -- . ^ little seemmg change of functions. Consuls, Prcetors, OuiEstors, Tribunes, and yEdiles rose from the same classes as before, and moved for the most part in Censoria. — A.D. 14. A tigustus. 15 the same round of work, though they had lost for ever their power of initiative and real control. Elected by the people formerly, but with much sinister influence of bribery and auguries, they were now mainly the nominees of Caesar, though the forms of popular election were still for a time observed, and though Augustus condescended to canvass in person for his friends and to send letters of commendation for those whom he wished to have elected. The consulship was entirely reserved for his nominees, but passed rapidly from hand to hand, since in order to gratify a larger number it was granted at varying intervals for a few months only. For though it was in fact a political nullity henceforth, and its value lay mainly in the evidence of imperial favour or its prospects of provincial office, yet the old dignity lasted still, and for centuries the post was spoken of by Romans as almost the highest prize of their ambition. For lower posts a distinction was observed between the places, generally one-half, reserved entirely for the Emperor to fill with his candidaii Ccesaris, as they are called in their inscriptions, and those which were left for some show of open voting, though influenced, it might be, by court favour. The peculiar feature of the old Roman executive had been its want of centralised action. Each magistrate might thwart and check his colleague ; the collision between different officials, the power of veto, and the absence of supreme authority might bring the political ma- chinery to a dead lock. The imperial system swept aside these dangers, left each magistrate to the routine of his own work, and made him feel his responsibility to the central chief. It was part of the policy of Augustus to disturb as little as possible the old names and forms of the Republic ; to leave their old show and dignity, that those who filled them might seem to be not his own creatures, but the servants of the state. But besides these i6 The Earlier Empire. B.C. 31 — — A.D. 14. A ugiistus. i; Praefectus. he set up a number of new offices, often of more real power New offices though of lower rank ; he filled the most im- created. portant of them with his confidants, delegating to them the functions which most needed his control, and in which he could not brook any show of independence, and left behind him the rudiments of a centralised bureaucracy which his successors gradually enlarged. Two terms correspond respectively to two great classes. The name prcefcctus^ the prdfet of modern France, stood in earlier days for the deputy of any officer of state charged specially to execute some definite work. The praefects of Caesar were his servants, named by him and responsible to him, set to discharge duties which the old constitution had commonly ignored. Praefectus ^^^ prefect of the city had appeared in Urbi, shadowy form under the Republic to repre- sent the consul in his absence. Augustus felt the need, when called away from Rome, to have some one there whom he could trust to watch the jealous nobles and control the fickle mob. His trustiest confidants, Maecenas and Agrippa, filled the post, and it became a standing office, with a growing sphere of competence, overtopping the magistracies of earlier date. The prtefects of the praetorian cohorts first appeared when the Senate formally assigned a body-guard to Augustus later in his reign. The troops were named after the picked soldiers who were quartered round the tents of the generals of the Repub- lic, and when they were concentrated by the city walls their chief commanders soon filled a formidable place in history, and their loyalty or treachery often decided the fate of Rome. Next to these in power and importance came the vigiium, prccfects of the watch — the new police force annons. organised by Augustus as a protection against the dangers of the night ; and of the corn supplies of Praetorio, *. . i Rome, which were always an object of especial care on the part of the imperial government. And besides these, there were many various duties entrusted by the head of the state to special delegates, both in the capital and through the provinces. The title prociira- procura- tor, which has come down to us in the form tores. of ' proctor,' was at first mainly a term of civil law, and was used for a financial agent or attorney. The officers so called were regarded at the first as stewards of the Emperor's property or managers of his private business. They were therefore for some time of humble origin, for the Emperor's household was organised like that of any Roman noble. Slaves or freedmen filled the offices of trust, wrote his letters, kept his books, managed his affairs, and did the work of the treasurers and secretaries of state of later days. Kept within bounds by sterner masters, they abused the confidence of weak emperors, and outraged Roman pride by their wealth, arrogance, and ostentation. The agents of the Emperor's privy purse throughout the provinces were called by the same title, but were commonly of higher rank and more repute. Such in its bare outline was the executive of the im- perial government. We have next to see what was the position of the Senate. That body had been ^^^ ^^^^^^ in early times the council summoned to advise the king or consul. By the weight and experience of its members, and their lifelong tenure of office, it soon towered above the shortlived executive, and became the chief moving force at Rome. But the poUcy of the Gracchi had dealt a fatal blow at its supremacy. Proscrip- tions and civil wars had thinned its ranks. The first Csesar had treated it with studied disrespect, and in the subsequent times of anarchy the influence of the order and the reputation of its members had sunk to the lowest depth of degradation. It was one of the first cares of A.H. C i8 TJic Earlier Empire. B.C. 31 Augustus to restore its credit. At the risk of odium and personal danger he more than once revised the list, and purged it of unworthy members, summoning eminent pro- vincials in their place. He was careful of their outward dignity, and made the capital of a million sesterces a needful condition of the rank. The functions also of the Senate were in theory enlarged. Its decrees on questions brought before it had henceforth the binding force of law. As the popular assemblies ceased to meet for legis- lation, case after case was submitted to its judgment, till it gained speedily by prescription a jurisdiction of wide range, and before long it decided the elections at its will or registered the nominations of the Emperor. But the substance of power and independence had passed away from it for ever. Matters of great moment Privy were debated first, not in the Senate House, Council. but in a sort of Privy Council formed by the trusted advisers of the Emperor, while the discussions of the larger body served chiefly to mask the forms of abso- lutism, to feel the pulse of popular sentiment, and to re- gister decisions formed elsewhere. Treated with respect and courtesy by wary princes, the senators were the special mark of the jealousy and greed of the worst rulers. * If we now turn our thoughts from the centre to the provinces we shall find that the imperial system brought The govern- ^^^^ ^^ "^°^^ Sweeping changes and more real ment of the improvement. Almost every country of the provinces. Roman world had long been frightfully mis- governed. Towards the end of the Republic there rises from every land a cry in tones that grow ever louder— a cry of misery and despair— that their governors are greedy and corrupt, scandalously indifferent to justice, conniving at the extortion of the Roman capitalists who farmed the tithes and taxes, and of the money-lenders, who had settled like leeches all around them. \ — A.D. 14. Augustus. 19 The governors who hastened to their provinces after a short tenure of official rank at Rome looked to the emoluments of office to retrieve their fortunes, exhausted frequently by public shows and bribery at home. They abused their power in a hundred ways to amass enormous wealth, with little check from the public opinion of their order, or from the courts of law before which they might possibly be prosecuted by their victims or their rivals. But a new order of things was now begun. Augustus left to the Senate the nominal control of the more peace- ful provincesjwhich needed little military force, senatorial To these ex-consuls and ex-prastors were sent provmces. out as before, but with no power of the sword and little of the purse. High salaries were paid to them directly by the state, but the sources of indirect gains were gradu- ally cut off. By their side was a proctor of the Emperors privy purse, to watch their conduct and report their mis- demeanours. At home there was a vigilant ruler, ready to give ear to the complaints of the provincials, and to see that justice was promptly done by the tribunals or the Senate. Doubtless we still hear of much misgovernment, and scandalous abuses sometimes are detailed, for the evils to be checked had been the growth of ages, and the vigilance of a single ruler, however strict, must have been oftentimes at fault. The remaining countries, called imperial provinces, were ruled by generals, called legati, or in some few cases by proctors only. They held office during imperial the good pleasure of their master, and for provinces, longer periods often than the senatorial governors. There are signs that the imperial provinces were better ruled, and that the transference of a country to this class from the other was looked upon as a real boon, and not as an empty honour. Such in its chief features was the system of Augustus, C 2 20 The Earlier Eiupire. B.C. ^i— the rudiments of the bureaucratic system which was General slowly Organized by later ages. This was his th^'^ew'^ °^ constructive policy, and on the value of this regime. Creative work his claims to greatness must be based. To the provinces the gain undoubtedly was great. His rule brought them peace and order and the essentials of good government. It left the local forms of self-rule almost untouched, and lightened, if it did not quite re- move, the incubus of oppression which had so long tight- ened its grasp upon their throats. At Rome, too, the feeling of relief was keenly felt. Credit recovered with a rebound after the victory at Actium. Prices and the rate of interest fell at once. The secret adherents of the fallen cause began to breathe again more freely when they heard no mention of proscription ; the friends of order learnt with joy that the era of anarchy was closed ; rigid republicans found their jealous suspicions half-disarmed by the respect shown for the ancient forms and names, by the courtesy with which the Senate had been treated, and above all, perhaps, by the modest, unassuming man- The homely "^^^ ^^ ^^^^^ priucc. For he shunned carefully manners of all outward ponip, movcd about the streets ugustub. almost unattended, sat patiently through the games and shows which the Romans passionately loved, went out to dinner readily when asked, and charmed men by his simple courtesy. He could bear plain speaking too, for a blunt soldier to whose petition he said that he was too busy to attend, told him to his face, that he had never said he was too busy to expose his own life for him in battle. The expenses of his household scarcely rose to the level of those of many a wealthy noble ; he wore no clothes save those made for him by Livia and her women, and studiously avoided all profusion or extravagance. He tried also to spare his people's purses, for upon a jour- ney he often passed through a town by night, to give — A.D. 14. A UgHStUS. 21 the citizens no chance of proving their loyalty by costly outlay. But he spent his treasure lavishly for pubhc ends. The public games and festivals provided by him were on a scale of magnificence quite unexampled ; Liberal great sums were often spent in largess to the °"biic °'^ populace of Rome. In times of scarcity corn objects. was sold in the capital below cost price, besides the vast quantities distributed in free doles among the poor. Noble senators of decayed fortunes were often pensioned, to enable them to live up to their rank. Costly buildings set apart for public uses, temples, baths, theatres, and aqueducts, rose rapidly on every side. His kinsmen, intimates, all whom his influence could move, vied with him in such outlay, and helped him to realise the boast of later days, ' that he found a city of brick and left one of marble in its place.' The great roads in Italy and through the provinces were carefully repaired, and a postal system set on foot, confined, it is true, to official uses. Armed patrols marched along the roads, brigandage was forcibly put down, slave-gangs were inspected, and the abuses of times of violence redressed. In the capital itself a police force was organized for the first time, in- tended mainly at the first for protection against fire, but soon extended and made permanent to secure peace and order in the streets, which for centuries the RepubUc had neglected. In distant countries his fatherly care was shown in time of need by liberal grants of money, to help public works, or repair the ravages of earthquakes. The interests of the legions also were consulted, but not at the expense of quiet citizens, as before. Vast sums were spent in buying up lands in the neighbourhood of the great towns of Italy, where war or slow decay had thinned their numbers, in order at once to recruit the urban population and supply the veterans with farms. 22 The Earlier Empire. B.C. 31 — Colonies were planted, too, beyond the seas, for the relief of the overgrown populace of Rome. There was enough in such material boons to conciliate all classes through the Empire. The stiff-necked cham- R^^dyac- pions of the Repubhc had died upon the ilT the*?e"^^ battle-field ; a generation had grown up de- changes, moralised by years of anarchy, and few were left to mourn the loss of freedom. Few eyes could see what was one day to be apparent, that the disguises and the msincerities of the new regime were full of danger; that to senator and office-bearer the paths of politics were strewn with snares ; that in the face of a timid or suspicious ruler it would be as perilous to show their fear as to make a brave show of independence. For a while they heard the familiar sounds of Senate, consul, and of tribune ; they saw the same pageants as of old in daily life. Nor did they realise as yet that liberty was gone for ever, and that the ancient forms that passed before them were as empty of real life as the ancestral masks that moved along the streets to the noble Roman's funeral pyre. From the imperial machinery we may next turn to the great men who helped possibly to create and cer- The chief ^"^'"^y ^° ^ork it. It was the singular good Xigustus°^ ^^^"^^^ ""^ Augustus to secure the services of two ministers like Agrippa and Mi£cenas, of different genius but equal loyally of character. Marcus Vipsanius, surnamed Agrippa, had been in early days the schoolfellow and imimate of Octavius. Agrippa. 'y^^y ^^ere at Apollonia together, studyino- the philosophy and art of Greece, when the idings came that Cesar had been murdered. They were together when the bold scheme was formed and the two youths set forth together to claim the heritage of C^sar and to strive for the empire of the world. To whom the fi — A.D. 14. A tigustus. 23 initiative was due we know not; but we do know that Agrippa's courage never wavered, though Octavianus se'emed at times ready to falter and draw back. To the many-sided activity of Agrippa and to his ^j^^^^^^y unfailing resolution the success of that enter- prise seems mainly due. He was the great general of the cause that triumphed, the hero of every forlorn hope, and the knight-errant for every hazardous adventure in distant regions. His energy helped to win Perusia after stubborn siege; his quick eye saw in the Lucrine lake the shelter for the fleets that were to be manned and trained before they could hope to face Sextus Pompeius, the bold corsair chief, who swept the seas and menaced Rome with famine. Thanks to him again the victory of Actium was won, for the genius if not the courage of Octavianus failed him on the scene of battle. Whenever danger showed itself henceforth— in Gaul, in Spain, where the native tribes rose once more in arms ; in Pontus, where one of the line of Mithridates unfurled the banner of revolt; on the shores of the Danube, where the Pannonians were stirring— no hand but Agrippa's could be trusted to dispel the gathering storms. We find in him not heroism alone self-sacri- but the spirit of self-sacrifice. Three times, fice. we read, he refused the honours of a triumph. At a word he stooped to the lowest round of official rank, the gedileship, burdened as it was with the ruinous responsi- bilities of shows and festivals, and kept the Romans in good humour at a critical moment of the civil struggle. To win further popularity by the sweets of material well-being, the soldier forsook the camp and courted the arts of peace, busied himself with sanitary reforms, repaired the magnificent doaccn of old Rome, ^^y^Yic constructed the splendid thermce for the works. hot baths introduced from Eastern lands, built new 24 The Earlier Ejnpire. B.C. 31— aqueducts towering aloft upon the arches of the old, and distributed the pure water so conveyed to foun-' tains in every quarter of the city, which were decorated with statues and columns of precious marbles to be counted by the hundred. Another sacrifice was called for— to divorce the daughter of Atticus, Cicero's famous 1 Marries friend, and draw nearer the throne by marr}- ( Marcella. jng the Emperor's niece, Marcella; and he obeyed from dutiful submission to his master, or from the ambitious hope to share the power which his sword had won. Soon it seemed as if his loyalty was to meet with Its reward. Augustus was brought to death's door by sudden illness, and, in what seemed like his last hour seized Agrippa's hand and slipped a ring upon the fin- ger, as if to mark him out for his successor. But health returned again, and with it visible coolness towards Agrippa and increased affection for Marcellus, his youncr nephew. *=* Agrippa resigned himself without a murmur, and Retires to l^^'cd in retirement a while at Lesbos till the Lesbos. death of Marcellus and the warnings of Maecenas pointed him out again as the only successor worthy of the Empire. Signs of discontent among the populace of Rome quickened the Emperor's desire to have his trusty friend beside him, and to draw him yet Marries ii^ore closcly to him he bade him put away ju ha. Marcella, and gave him his own daughter Juha. Once more he obeyed in silence, and now might tairl)' hope to be rewarded for his patience and one day to mount into the weakly Emperor's place. But his lot was to be always second, never first. His strong frame, slowly weakened by hard campaigns and ceaseless journeys at Dies ^"11 speed in every quarter of the world, gave (B.C. 12). way at last, and his career was closed while he seemed yet in his prime. In him Augustus lost a — A.D. 14. A iigustus. 25 gallant soldier and unselfish friend, who is s^id,mdeed,to have advised him after Actium to resign his power, but who certainly had done more than any other to set him up and to keep him on the pinnacle of greatness. It throws a curious light upon his story to read the comment on it in the pages of the naturalist Pliny. He is ^^^^^^^ ^f speaking of the superstitious fancy that Pi^^y about misery clouded the lives of all who were called Agrippa. In spite, he says, of his brilliant ex- ploits he was no exception to the rule. He was un- lucky in his wife Julia, who dishonoured his good name; in his children, who died by poison or in exile ; and un- happy also in bearing all his life what he calls the hard bondage of Augustus. The friend for whom he toiled so long and faithfully showed little tenderness of heart ; the master whom he served had tasked his energies m every sphere, and called for many an act of self-devotion, but he had already looked coldly on his loyal minister, and he might at any moment weary of a debt he could not pay, and add another page to the long chronicle of the ingratitude of princes. M^cenas, better known by his mother's name than that of Cilnius, his father, came from an ^^^^^^^ Etruscan stock that had given a line of masters to Arretium. He was better fitted for the council chamber than the field of battle, for the delicate man- oeuvres of diplomacy than for the rough work of stormy times. During the years of civic struggle, and while the air was charged with thunder-clouds, we find him always, as the trusty agent of Octavianus, engaged on ^is diplo- every important mission that needed adroit- "^atic skill. ness and address. His subtle tact and courtesies were tried with the same success upon Sextus Pompeius and on Antonius, when the confidence of each was to be won, or angry feelings charmed away, or the dangers of a coali- 26 The Earlier Empire. B.C. 31 — tion met. His honied words were found of not less avail ^rat^^dTd'lVLt^'Jte T'^' ^^^ n seeded, indeed, ^CT^^^Z:::,^ hat h.s pojitica, career was closed, for L7roSl:tnt rank of knic.hthood ^TJ a ""^ "''' ™'^'^«t -itK (How s w?n::rni.:s":r,ts' i^st 'r:Hicfth: it ^"^ -«~ oV.r but was the ^^ octore. He was still thp Pr^^^ ^ SS- chief adv,ser, counsellin^Lf rJlXl! Sic. and wr; ^h^^e c^at^f st^ ^ "^ ^^^" serving on a serr^f r^- ■ ? ^^ '^'^'^^ still «^e. °Keen,;Te;-^~h:'reerof;ttn1 5 Influenced the refined nnrl =^. > ^ ^^ ^ the tone of "-nneo and social pleasures which a and gifted wUhfrarTS: of ^^^ '"^ S^-^-'- -se^ peculiarly fitted tofnflu " "^h/ tlT^r^'^' '^ T and diffuse a o-r:,f^f i -^ ^ ^^ Roman circles imperial rule ^He lid '" K-' '"''''"'' '^'"^'"S^ °f only peace and quiet, with Lsurrt:;^;!^^: for^e^' ^o„,H .He ns^nct or policy soon led him to caressfhe influence ^^uMTe/ The' '^^'- '"^ *^'^ =°-' from mouth i mouth a will T "TT '"'"' P""^^ — A.D. 14 ^ MgllSUlS. 27 public ear which journalism has had in later days. So from taste and policy alike Maecenas played the part of patron of the arts and letters. He used the ^^ ^^^^.^ fine point and wit of Horace to sing the patron, praises of the enhghtened ruler who gave Horace, peace and plenty to the world, to scoff meantime at high ambitions, and play with the memory of fallen causes. The social philosophy of moderation soothed the self- respect of men who were sated with the fierce game of politics and war, and gladly saw their indolent and sceptical refinement reflected in the poet's graceful words. He used the nobler muse of Vergil to lead ^^^^^ the fancy of the Romans back to the good old days, ere country life was deserted for the camp and city, suggesting the subject of the Georgics to revive the old taste for husbandry and lead men to break up the waste land with the plough. He helped also to degrade that muse by leading it astray from worthier themes to waste its melody and pathos in the uncongenial attempt to throw a halo of heroic legend round the cradle of the Juhan line. Other poets, too, Propertius, TibuUus, Ovid, paid dearly for the patronage which cramped their genius and befouled their taste, and in place of truer inspiration prompted chiefly amorous insipidities and senile adula- tion. For himself his chief aim in later life His domestic seemed careless ease, but that boon fled trials. away from him the more he wooed it. The Emperor eyed Terentia, his wife, too fondly, and the injured hus- band consoled himself with the best philosophy he could. But she was a scold as well as a coquette, and now drove him to despair with bitter words, now lured him to her side again, till their quarrels passed at length beyond the house and became the common talk of all the gossips of the town. As he was borne along the streets, lolling in his litter, in a dress loose with studied 28 Tlie Earlier Empire. B.C. 31— negligence, his fingers all bedecked with rings, with eunuchs and parasites and jesters in his train, men asked each other with a smile what was the last news of the fickle couple-were they married or divorced again.? At Sleepless- 'ast his nerves gave way and sleep forsook °'^- him. In vain he had recourse to the plea- sures of the table which his Tuscan nature loved, to the rare wines that might lull his cares to rest, to distant orchestras of soothing music. In earlier days he had set L"v 1^""'?^' ^^"""=' '^^"^"'^ shameful praver, that his life might still be spared when health and strength and comeliness forsook him. He lived long enough to feel the vanity of all his wishes. Nothing could cure his Imgenng agony of sleeplessness or drive the spectre of death from his bedside. But the end S he tftth^P P^^-'',--^' -d, loyal even in h"s death, he left the Emperor his heir m^r^^H "T" ""'"""^ ^"2"^'"^ '" ^'^ Public life, and turn to his domestic circle and see what influences were Livia ^'^""t >"m there. The chief figure to be obiect of hf^'^'f '', ^'''''' ^'^ ''"■^' ^''° ^^^ been the £0 and H hT V'°''"''^''" ^"" "-^^"^d to Tiberius f^r the hn . f" ^"''^^ '" ^'"" "^^^ ^^■"«=^"t husband for the home of the triumvir. She soon gained over him heTfXe''4e ^" '""^"""^^ '^at never wavered. Her gentle Sf " TTT^ of manner, her wifely virtues never Te with T ? ^ ""' '^^'""' °f ^^^'"^•'''' *e homeli- ness wuh which she copied the grave matrons of old the men" 'th ''h '' ''°"" ^"' =P"" "^^ ^™°1 '° ^'"t" e their men the discreet reserve with which she shut her eyes to her husband's infidelities, are the reasons gi.t by herself, as we are told, when she was asked fof the secret of her power. Quite insufficient in themselves they may have helped to secure the ascendency whic^ — A.D. 14. A ugustus. 29 her beauty and her strength of character had won. The gradual change that may be traced in the ^^its outward bearing of Augustus may be due nature. partly to her counsels. Certainly she seemed to press patience and forbearance on him, and Dion Cassius at a later time puts into her mouth a pretty sermon on the grace of mercy when her husband's temper had been soured by traitorous plots. She was open-handed too in works of charity, brought up poor children at her own expense, and gave many a maid a marriage dower. Cali-ula, who knew her well, and had insight in his own mad'way, called her 'Ulysses in petticoats;' and the men of her own day, it seems, thought her such a suspicion of subtle schemer, that they credited her with ^^^^^ acts of guile of which no evidence was pro- duced Dark rumours floated through the streets of Rome, and men spoke of her in meaning whispers, as death knocked again and again at the old man's doors and the favourites of the people passed away. It was her misfortune or her guilt that all who were nearest to the Emperor, all who stood between her son and the suc- cession, died by premature and seemingly mysterious deaths. The young Marcellus, to whose memory Vergil raised the monument of his pathetic lines ; the brave Ao-rippa, cut off when all his hopes seemed nearest to ful- filment- two of Julia's children by Agrippa, within eighteen months of each other ; all died in turn before their time, and all were followed to the grave by regrets and by suspicions that grew louder in each case. For Livia had had no children by Augustus. Of the fruit of her first marriage Drusus died in Germany, and Tiberius alone was left. The popular fancy, goaded by re- ^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^ peated losses, found it easy to believe that a ^ucc^es^on of ruthless tragedy was going on before their eyes, and that the chief actor was a mother scheming I 30 for her The Earlier Empire. B.C. 31-^ Treatment of Agrippa Postumus. son, calmly sweeping from his path every rival that she feared. One grandson still was left, the youngest of Julia's children, Agrippa Postumus, who was born after his father's death. On him Augustus lavished his love awhile as the last hope of his race, adopted him even as his own ; but soon he found, or was led to fancy that the boy was clownish and intractable, removed him to burrentum, and when confinement made him worse to the island of Planasia. But one day pity or regret s^ole over the old man's heart: he slipped away quietly with a smgle conhdant to see the boy, seemed to i^^\ the old ove revive again, and spoke as if he would restore him to his place at home. The one bystander told his wife the story, and she whispered it to Livia's ear That witness died suddenly soon after, and his wife was heard to moan that her indiscretion caused his death Story of Jh^" Livia dared no longer to wait, lest a poisoning dotard's fondness should be fatal to her Augustus. hopes. Quietly she took her potent drugs to a favourite fig-tree in a garden close at hand, then as they walked together later on offered him the poisoned fic^s and ate herself of the harmless ones that grew beside Such were the stories that were current at the time' too lightly credited perhaps from fear or hate but noteworthy as reflecting the credulous suspicions of the people, and the fatality that seemed to haunt the household of the C.sars. Of that family the two Julias yet remained alive, the wife and daughter of Agrippa but they were pining in their lonely prisons, and their memory had almost passed away. & V"^.^^^^ -^"^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^hild of Augustus by tVoth'aS Scriboma. Betrothed while still in the nursery to a young son of Antonius, she was oromi^PH in jest to Cotison, a chieftain of the Get^., and then t" the \ — A.D. 14. A JlgltStllS. 31 nephew of the Emperor, Marcellus. At his death she passed, at the age of seventeen, and with her ^^^ ^^. the hopes of the succession, to Agrippa's "ages, house, where an earlier wife was displaced to make room for her. Eleven years she lived with him, and when he died Tiberius must in his turn divorce the Agrippina whom he loved and take the widowed princess to his house. She had been brought up strictly, almost sternly by her father. Profligate as he had been himself in early life, his stan- dard of womanly decorum was a high one, and he wished to see in Julia the austere dignity of the Roman matrons of old days. But she was readier to follow the examples of his youth than the disguises and hypocrisies of his later life. She scorned the modest homeliness of Livia and the republican simplicity of Augustus, aired ostenta- tiously her pride of race, and loved profusion and display. Once freed by marriage from the restraints Herextrava- of her father's home, she began a career of gance and license unparalleled even for that age. She ^^"^ '^^""^ flung to the winds all womanly reserves, paraded often in her speech a cynical disdain for conventional re- straints, and gathered round her the most reckless of the youth of Rome, till her excesses became a scandal and a byword through the town. The Emperor was the last to know of his dishonoured name. He had ^^j^.^^de marked, indeed, with grave displeasure her known to her love of finer)' and sumptuous living, had even destroyed a house which she built upon too grand a scale ; but for years no one dared to tell him more, till at last some one, perhaps Livia, raised the veil, and the whole story of her life was known. He heard of her long career of guilty license, and how but lately she had roved at night through the city with her train of revellers and made the Forum the scene of her worst orgies, dishonour- ing with bold words and shameless deeds the very tri- i Z2 TJic Earlier E7npire. B.C. 31— bune where her father stood but yesterday to speak in favour of his stricter marriage laws. He was told, though with httle show of truth, that she was plotting a still darker deed and urging her paramour to take his life. The blow fell very hardly on the fother, and clouded all the peace of his last years. At first his rage passed quite from his control. Her desks were ransacked, her slaves were tortured, and all the in- famous details poured out before the Senate. When he was told that Phoebe, the freed woman and con- fidant of Julia, had hung herself in her despair he answered grimly, * Would that I were Phoebe's father' Nothing but her death seemed likely to content him*. Then came a change; he shut himself away from sight, and would speak of her no more. She was Her banish- cxilcd to a checHcss island; and thouo-h the ment(B.c..) fickle people, and Tiberius even, pleaded for her pardon, she was at most allowed at Rhegium a less gloomy prison. There, in her despairing lone- and misery. ^^['^'''' '^'^ "^"^^ ^^^ve felt a lingering agony of retribution. She heard how the hand of vengeance fell upon her friends and paramours, and, harder still to bear, how child after child mys- teriously died, and only two were left-Agrippa, thrust away from sight and pity on his petty island, and Julia who had followed in her mother's steps, and was an exile and a prisoner like herself. Such family losses and dishonours might well em- bitter the Emperor's last years ; but other causes helped to deepen the gloom which fell upon him Since Agnppa's death there was no general whom he could trust to lead his armies, no strong hand to curb the restless tribes of the half-conquered North, or roll back from the frontiers the tide of war. He sent his grand- sons to the distant armies; but they were young — ^A.D. 14. A ugustus. 33 and inexperienced, and firmer hands than theirs were needed to save the eagles from disgrace. One great disaster at this time revealed the danger and sent a thrill of horror through the Empire. The German tribes upon the Gallic border had Disasters in kept unbroken peace of late, and many of Germany, them seemed quite to have submitted to the Roman rule. A few years before, indeed, some hordes had dashed across the Rhine upon a plundering foray, and in the course of it had laid an ambush for the Defeat of Roman cavalry, and driven them and Lollius, Lollius, their leader, backward in confusion and disgrace. But that storm had rolled away again, and the tribes sent hostages and begged for peace. Roman influence seemed spreading through the North, as year by year the legions and the traders carried the arts of settled life into the heart of Germany. But in an evil hour Ouintilius Varus was sent thither in command. The rule seemed too lax and the change too slow for his impatience, and he set himself to consolidate and civilize in hot haste. Discon- tent and disaffection spread apace, but Varus saw no danger and had no suspicions. The German chieftains, when their plots were laid, plied him with fair assurances of peace, lured him to leave the Rhine and march to- wards the Visurgis (Weser) through tribes that were all ready for revolt. Wiser heads warned him of the coming danger, but in vain. He took no heed, he would not even keep his troops together and in hand. At last the schemers, Arminius (Hermann) at their head, thought the time had come. They began the rising at a distance, and made him think it only a local outbreak in a friendly country ; so they led him on through forest lands, then rose upon him on all sides in a dangerous defile. The legions, taken by surprise as they were marching carelessly, hampered with baggage and camp-followers, could make little head A.H. D iac ii^..8^iSti5te3fc-jia>^. »->s 34 The Earlier Empire. B.C. 31- against their foes. They tried to struggle on through swamps and woods, where faUing trees crushed them as they passed along, and barricades were piled by unseen hands, while wind and rain seemed leagued together for their ruin. Three days they stood at bay and strove to beat off their assailants, who returned with fresh fury pnd loss of ^^ ^^ charge. Then their strength or courage Varus, with failed them. The more resolute spirits slew three . legions. themsclvcs with their own hands, and the A.D. 9 j.gg^. sank down to die. Of three full legions few surv'ived, and for many a year the name of that field of death — the Saltus Teutoburgiensis — sounded ominously in Roman ears. In the capital there was a panic for awhile. A short time before they had heard the tidings that Pannonia Panic at ^'^^ ^'^ revolt, and now came the news that Rome, Germany was all in iirms, and, forcing the Roman lines, stripped as they were of their army of defence, might pour even into Italy, which seemed a possible nay easy prey. The danger, indeed, was not so imminent. Tiberius, and after him Germanicus, maintained the fron tier and avenged their soldiers ; but the loss of prestige was very great, and the emperor felt it till his death. For months of mourning he would not trim his beard or cut his hair, and 'Varus, give me back my legions !' was the moan men often heard him utter. He felt it the more , ... keenly because soldiers were so hard to find. and cncf of » i the Em- At the Centre no one would enlist. In vain ^'^°'^' he appealed to their sense of honour, in vain he had recourse to stringent penalties ; he was forced at last to enrol freedmen and make up his legions from the , rabble of the streets. He had seen long since who can , ° hardly levy With alarm that the population was decreasing, "■" lers, j^^^ re-stocked the dwindling country towns with colonists, had tried to promote marriage among all — A.D. 14. A iigustus. 35 classes, had forced through a reluctant Senate the Lex Papia Poppa^a by which celibacy was saddled with penal disabilities. But men noticed with a sneer that the two consuls after whom the law was named were both un- married, and it was a hopeless effort to arrest such social tendencies by legislation. The central countries of the Empire could not now find men to fill the ranks. The veterans might be induced to forsake the little glebes of which they soon grew weary, but others would not answer to the call. Whole regions were almost deserted, and the scanty populations had little mind for war. So the distant provinces became the legions' re- ^^^^^^ .^^ cruitine-sround, and the last comers in the the pro- ^ ° , . vinces. Empire must defend it. Under the pressure of such public and domestic cares we need not wonder that the Emperor became moody and morose, and that the unlovely quali- ^^^^^^^3 ties of earher days began to re-appear. He grew r • 1 rr morose, shunned the gentle courtesies of social lite, would be present at no festive gathering, disliked even to be noticed or saluted. Increasing weakness gave him an excuse for failing to be present in the Senate— a few picked men could represent the body, and the Emperor's bedchamber became a privy council. He heard with petulance that the exiles in the islands were trying to relax the rigour of their lot, and living in comfort and in luxury. Stringent restrictions were imposed upon their freedom. He heard and resented of writings that were passing through men's criticism. hands in which his name was spoken of with caustic wit and scant respect. The books must be hunted out at once and burnt, and the authors punished if they could be found. The bitter partisanship with which Titus Labienus had expressed his repubhcan sympathies, and D 2 f I 36 The Earlier E^npire. B.C. 31— the meaning look with which he turned over pages of his history, which could be read only after he was dead, have made his name almost typical of the struggle between despotism and literary independence. Cassius Severus said he must be burnt himself, if the memory of Labienus' work must be quite stamped out; and his was, accordingly, the first of the long list of cases in which the old laws of Leses Majes- treason— the Leges MaJestatis~\wQYc strained forced"" ^° r^SLch not acts alone but words. A much against more familiar name, the poet Ovid, is brought authors. |^gfQj.g ^jg ^^ ^j^jg ^j^^^ ^j^^ spoiled child of the fashionable society of Rome, he had early lent his Ovid. ^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^° amuse the careless worldlings round him, had made a jest of the remon- strances of serious friends, who tried to win his thoughts to politics and busy life, and had squandered all his high gifts of poetry on frivolous or wanton themes. His con- versational powers or his hterary fame attracted the notice of the younger Julia, and he was drawn into the gay circle that surrounded her. There in an evil hour, it seems, he was made the confidant of dangerous secrets, and was one of the earliest to suffer when the Emperor's eyes at last were opened. To the would-be censor and reformer of the public morals, who had turned his back upon the follies of his youth, the poet's writings must have been long distasteful, as thinly veiled allurements to licentiousness. The indignant grandfather eyed them still more sternly, saw in them the source or the apology of wanton deeds, and drove their author from the Rome Banished to ^^ ^^^^^ ^° ^'^^1 ^o a half-civilised home at ^Td 8 Tomi, on the Scythian frontier, from which all his unmanly flatteries and lamentations failed to free him. It was time Augustus should be called away ; he had lived too long for happiness and fame, his subjects A ugiistus. 37 Augustus at last less popular at Rome than in the pro- vinces. — A.D. 14. were growing weary of their master, and some were ready to conspire against him. Still doubtless in the provmces men blessed his name, as they thought of the prosperity and peace which he had long secured to them. One ship's crew of Alexan- dria, we read, when he put into Puteoli, where they were, came with garlands, frank- ^ incense, and glad words of praise to do him honour. To him they owed,' so ran their homage, 'their lives, their liberties, and the wellbeing of their trade.' But those who knew him best were colder in their praises now, and scarcely wished that he should tarry long among them For seventy-five years his strength held out, sickly and enfeebled as his body seemed. The summons came as he was coasting by Campania, and left him only time to crawl to Naples and thence to Nola, where pjedat he died To those who stood beside his bed Nola. his last words, if reported truly, breathe the spirit of his Ufe : 'What think ye of the comedy, my friends ? Have I fairly played my part in it ? If so, applaud The applause, if any, must be given to the actor rather than to the man, for the least lovely features of his character seem most truly his. r • -^^ In his last years he was busy with the task of giving an account of his long stewardship. Long ago he had set on foot a survey of the Empire, and maps had His^survey been prepared by the geographical studies of R^^an Agrippa. Valuations of landed property had world, been made, as one step, though a very partial one, towards a uniform system of taxation. He had now and sum- gathered up for the benefit of his successors ^^^2^1 and the Senate all the varied information statistics, that lay ready to his hand. He had written out with his . own hand, we are told, the statistics of chief moment, an account of the population in its various grades of privi- \m m 38 T/ie Earlier Empire. B.C. 31 — lege, the muster-rolls of all the armies and the fleets, and the balance-sheet of the revenue and expenditure of state. Taught by the experience of later years, or from the depression caused by decaying strength, he added for and advice ^"^"^^ rulers the advice to be content with to his sue- organizing what was won already, and not to push the frontiers of the army further. Before he died he took a last survey of his own life, wrote out a summary of all the public acts which he cared to recall to memory, and left directions that the chro- nicle should be engraved on brazen tablets in the mausoleum built to do him honour. That chronicle may The Monu- ^^^^^ ^^ ^^^^' ^^ough not at Rome. In a dis- mentumAn- tant province, at the town ofAncvra in Gala- cyranum. .• ^ 111, ... tia, a temple had been built for the- worship of Augustus, and-the guardian priests had a copy of his own biography carved out at length in stone on one of the side-walls. The temple has passed since then to other uses and witnessed the rites of a different religion ; houses have sprung up round it, and partly hidden, though pro- bably preserved, the old inscription. Until of late only a part of it could be deciphered, but a few years ago the patient energy of the explorers sent out by the French Government succeeded in uncovering the whole wall and making a complete copy of nearly all that had been writ- ten on it. From the place where it was found its literary name is the ' Monumentum Ancyranum.' It is not without a certain grandeur, which even those may feel who dis- pute the author's claim to greatness. With stately con- fidence and monumental brevity of detail it unfolds the long roll of his successes. Disdaining seemingly to stoop to the pettiness of bitter words, it speaks calmly of his fallen rivals; veiHng, indeed, in constitutional terms the illegalities of his career, but misleading or unfair only by its silence. Not a word is there to revive the hateful — A.D. 14- Augustus. 39 memory of the proscriptions, little to indicate the dire suspense of the war with Sextus Pompeius, or the straits and anxieties of the long struggle with Antonius ; but those questionable times of his career once passed, the narrative flosvs calmly on. It recounts with proud self-confidence the long list of battles fought and victories won ; the nations finally subdued under his rule ; the Eastern potentates who sought his friendship; the vassal princes who courted his protection. It tells of the many colonies which he had founded, and of the towns recruited by his veterans ; speaks of the vast sums that he had spent on shows and largess for the people ; and describes the aqueducts and various build- ings that had sprung up at his bidding to add to the material magnificence of Rome. For all these benefits the grateful citizens had hailed him as the father of his country. To the provincials who read these lines it might seem perhaps that there were few signs in them of any feeling that the Empire owed any duties to them- selves. A few words of reference to the sums spent in time of need upon their towns, and that was all. To the administrator it might seem a strange omission to say nothing of the great change in the ruling mechanism. Yet in'vvhat was there omitted lay his claim to greatness. The plea which justified the Empire was found in the newly-organized machinery of government and in tUp peace and justice long secured to the whole civilise^ natural unity, the family, the clan, the canton, and the nation, had their tutelary powers and special ritual of genuine home- growth, while in nearly all besides the foreign influences had overlaid the old religious forms. It had ^^^^^.^^j^ been part of the conservative policy of Au- fostered^by gustus to foster these old forms of worship, "S^^'''"^' to repair the little chapels in the city wards, and to give priestly functions to the masters of the streets officially connected with them. Even while he hved he allowed the figure of his Genius to be placed in the chapels beside the Lares At his death divine honours were The Genius assigned 'to it as to the rest, or rather it rose of Augustus. above them aU, as the imperial unity had towered above 42 The Earlier Empire. A.D. 14. the petty districts which they were thought to guard. Temples rose to the deified Augustus, altars smoked Auffustaies. ^^ ^^^.^^ ^^"'^' ''^"^ guilds of Augustales were organized to do him priestly service— for the provinces were eager to follow the example of the im- perial city, and their loyal zeal had even outstripped the reverence of Rome. The ruling powers were well pleased to see a halo of awfulness gather round their race, while subject peoples saw in the apotheosis of the monarch only a fitting climax to the majesty of his life and a symbol of the greatness of the Empire. And so succeed- ing monarchs in their turn were deified by pagan Rome, as saints were canonized by favour of the Pope. The Senate's vote gave divine honours with the title of ' Divus,' and it was passed commonly as a matter of course, or withheld only as a token of abhorrence or contempt. CHAPTER II. TIBERIUS.— A.D. I4-37. Tiberius Claudius Nero was the son of Tiberius Nero and Livia, and was carried by them while still an infant The early ^" ^^^^^ hurded flight after the surrender of T?be°rius Per^sia. On their return to Rome after the general peace his parents were separated by the imperious will of Octavianus, who made Livia his wife Losing his father at the age of nine, and taken from the nursery to pronounce the funeral speech, he was placed again under his mothers care and became the object of her ambitious hopes. He married the daughter of Agnppa, and- loved her well, but was forced to leave A.D. 14-37- Tiberius, 43 her afterwards for Julia, who brought as her dowry the prospects of the imperial succession. He was soon sent to learn the business of a soldier, serving in Service in the campaign in Pannonia and Germany, and the field dispatched on missions of importance, such as to crown Tigranes in Armenia as a subject prince, and to carry home the eagles which had been lost in Parthia by Crassus. At home all the old offices of state ^^^ in offices were pressed upon him, till at last he was hon- of state. oured even with the significant honour of the tribunician power. Yet Augustus seems to have had little liking for him, and to have noted keenly all his faults, the taci- j^.^^,^ ^j,^^ turn sullenness which contrasted painfully with by Au- the Emperor's gayer moods, his awkward ges- ^^^"^" tures and slow articulation when he spoke, the haugh- tiness of manner which came naturally to all the Claudian line, and thf^ habit of hard drinking, on which the rude- soldiers spent their wit when they termed him punningly ' Biberius Mero.' The Emperor even went so far as to speak to the Senate on the subject, and to say that they were faults of manner rather than of character. For the rest we hear that he was comely in face and well- proportioned, and handsome enough to attract Juha's fancy ; nor could he be without strong natural affection, for he loved his first wife fondly, and lived happily with Julia for awhile, and showed the sincerest sorrow when his brother Drusus died. This is all we hear of him till the age of thirty-five. Then comes a great break in his ca- reer. Suddenly, without a word of explanation, His retire- he wishes to leave Rome and retire from ghodS public life. Livia's entreaties, the Emperor's (b.c 6) protests, and the remonstrances of friends have no effect ; and having wrung from Augustus his consent, he betakes himself to Rhodes. What were his motives cannot now be known. It may have been in part his dis- / i 1 /J A/ y^/»^J^ ^t0 Ld A where he lives quietly, though with occasional show of power. 44 TJie Earlier Empire. a.d. 14-37. gust at the guilty life of Julia, who outraged his honour and allowed her paramours to make merry with his character ; in part perhaps weariness at being always kept in leading- strings at Rome ; but most probably it was jealousy at the rising star of the young grandsons of the Emperor, and fear of the dangers that might flow from too visible a rivalry. In the pleasant isle of Rhodes he lived awhile, quietly enough, though he could not always drop his rank. One day he was heard to say that he would go and see the sick. He found that he was saved the trouble of going far in search, as the magistrates had them all brought out and laid in order under the arcades, witli more regard to his convenience than theirs. Another time, when a war of words was going on among the wranglers in the schools, he stepped into the fray, and was so much hurt at being roughly handled that, hurrying home, he sent a guard to seize the poor professor who had ventured to ignore his dignity. At length, growing weary of his stay at Rhodes, he said that the young He wished princes were now secure of the succession, Romrbut'' ^"^^ ^^^^ ^^ "^^^^^ safely take a lower place at was not Rome. But Augustus coldly bade him stay and take no further trouble about those whom, he was so determined to forsake. Then came a time of terrible suspense. He knew that he was closely watched, and that the simplest words were easily misjudged. The Emperor reproached him with tampering with the loyalty of the officers who put in His danger ^^ Rhodes to see him. He shunned the coast ^ie"'' ^^ ^^^^^ ^" solitude, to avoid all official visits, and yet he heard to his alarm that he was still regarded with suspicion, that threatening words had passed about him in the intimate circle of the young Caesars, that his prospects looked so black that the citi- A.D. 14-37- Tiberius, 45 zens of Nemausus (Nismes) had even flung his statue down to curry favour with his enemies, that his mnocence would help him little, and that at any moment he might fall Only Thrasyllus, his astrologer, might see him, to excite him with ambiguous words. But Livia's influence was strong enough at last to bring him back to Rome, after more than seven years of absence, to live, Livia pro- however, in complete retirement in the gardens ^^^^^ of Maecenas, to take like a schoolboy to mytho- (a.d. 2) logy, and pose the grammarians who formed his little court whh nice questions about the verses which the Seirens used to sing, or the false name which the young ^^^ adoption Achilles bore. Not until the death of the young byAugustus. Caesars was he taken back to favour and adopted by the Emperor as his son. But the weariness of those long years of forced inaction, the lingering agony of that suspense had done their work, and he resigned himself hence- ^^.^ ^^^^^^^ forth without a murmur to the Emperors sej^c:ontrol will Not a moment of impatience at the caprices of the sick old man, not an outspoken word nor hasty gesture now betrayed his feelings ; but, as an apt pupil in the school of hypocrisy about him, he learned to dissemble and to wait. The only favour that he asked was to take his post in every field of danger, and to prove his loyalty and courage. With all his powers Was usually of self-restraint he must have breathed more ^^^^ ^i^h freely in the camp than in the stifling air of the army. Rome and the revolt in Pannonia gave him the oppor- tunity' he needed. That war, said to be the most dan- crerous since the wars with Carthage, tasked for three years all his resources as a general at the head of fifteen legions Scarcely was it closed when the defeat of Varus summoned him to the German frontier to avenge the terrible disaster. In the campaigns that followed he 46 The 'Earlier Empire, a.d. 14-37. spared no vigilance or personal effort, shared the hard- ships of the soldiers, and enforced the rigorous discipline of ancient generals. xNot only does Velleius Paterculus who served among his troops, speak of his commander m terms of unbounded praise, but later writers, who paint generally a darker picture, describe his merits at tnis time without reserve. From such duties he was called away to the death- tt'dlal!' ^.^^ of Augustus, whom he found at Nola, bed of either dead already or almost at the last Augustus. gasp. But Livia had been long since on the watch, had strictly guarded all approach to his bed- Precautions side, and let no one know that the end was of L.v.a. near till her son was ready and their measures had been taken He had been long since marked out for the succession by the formal act of adop- tion, which made him the natural heir as also by the partnership in the tribunician dignity, which raised him above all the other subjects. But the title 10 the sovereign rank was vague and ill-defined, and no constitutionaf theory of succession yet existed. As the Empire by name and t^'hrfeionl T^'^ '^''If ^" ^ ^i^i^^^y basis the consent all-impor- «* the Soldiery was all-important. If the ^"^- traditions of many years were to have wei-ht the Senate must be consulted and respected. The le-ions were far away upon the frontiers, in greatest force upon the side of Germany and Pannonia; and the first news They were that Came from the North was that the two m mutmy^ armies were in mutiny, clamouring for hi-her pay and laxer discipline. The hasty levies raised aVr the defeat of Varus had lowered the general morale, and carried to the camp the turbulent license of the camtal On the Rhine there was the further danger that Germani- cus, his nephew, who was then in supreme command Claim to bucceed based on adoption and tribunicia potestas. A.D. 14-37- Tiheriiis. 47 and were ready to raise Ger- manicus to the highest rank. should rely on his influence with his troops and lead them on, or be led by them, to fight for empire. This son of Drusus, who had been the popular idol of his day, and who was said to have hankered after the old liberties of the Republic, had won himself the soldiers' hearts by his courtesy, gallantry, and grace, and the familiar name of Germanicus which they gave him is the only one by which history has known him since. They were ready to assert their right to be consulted. The power which they defended was in their hands to give at a word from him, and if that word had been spoken they would cer- tainly have marched in arms to Rome. But he was not fired by such ambitious hopes, nor had he had he been seemingly any sentimental dreams of ancient willing. freedom. He took without delay the oath of obedience to Tiberius, restored discipUne after a few anxious days of mutiny, and then tried to distract the thoughts of his soldiers from dangerous memories by a series of cam- paigns into the heart of Germany. Tiberius meanwhile at home was feeling his way with very cautious steps. While he was still uncertain of the attitude of Germanicus and the temper of the legions, he used nothing but ambiguous language, affected caution of to decline the reins of the state, kept even the ^^^f^^. Senate in suspense, and at last with feigned guou^s^ ^ reluctance accepted office only for awhile, till ^"s^^^e. they should see fit to give him rest. It was in keeping with such policy that he shrank from the excessive shrank from honours which the Senate tried to lavish on jitks^of him, and declined even the titles which Angus- and from tus had accepted. Either from fear or from ^"^'^• disgust he showed dislike to the flattery which was at first rife about him, checked it when it was outspoken, and resented even as a personal offence the phrases \ 48 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 14-37. ' lord ' and ' master ' as applied to him. Meantime the Referred all Senate was encouraged to think that the business to the Senate, powers of administration rested in their hands. Nothing was too paltry, nothing was too grave to be submitted for their discussion ; even military matters were at first referred to them, and generals in command were censured for neglecting to report their doings to the Council. The populace of but neg- Rome, however, was treated with less cour- lected the 4.«^,, t-u • . r <- , popular ^Gsy. ihe ancient forms of the elections assemblies vvere quite swept away, and in legislation also the Senate took the place of the popular assembly. Little attempt was made to keep the people in good and the humour by shows of gladiators or gorgeous amusements »>o/-rr.^.,<.^ i t«-u • 11 o t> of the pageants, and Tiberms would not try to put people. on the studied affability with which Augustus sat for hours through the spectacles, or the frank courtesy with which he stayed to salute the passers-by. But, on the other hand, he showed himself at first sincerely Seemed dcsirous of just rule, warned provincial gover- anxious to nors who pressed him to raise higher taxes govern well. ^\^ . i 11,,, ° v".^^.^ that *a good shepherd shears but does not flay his sheep/ and kept a careful watch on the tribunals to see that the laws were properly enforced. Vigorous measures were adopted to put down brigandage, the police of Italy was better regulated, popular disturbances in the capital or in the provinces were promptly and even sternly checked, and many of the abuses were remedied which had grown out of the old rights of sanctuary. The policy of the early years of the new reign must have been largely due to Livia's influence. For many The great ^^^^^ Tiberius had been much away from influence of Rome, and it was natural that he should at first rely upon his mother's well-tried state- craft, her knowledge of men and familiar experience of the A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 49 social forces of the times. He owed all to her patient scheming, even if she had not, as men thought, swept away by poison the obstacles to his advancement. Her position was for many reasons a commanding one. The will of Augustus had named her as co-heiress, given her the official title of Augusta, and raised ^^^ called her by adoption to the level of her son. She Augusta. shared with him, therefore, in some measure the imperial dignity ; their names were coupled in official language ; the letters even of Tiberius ran for some time in her name as well as his. There were numerous coins of local cur- rency, at Rome and in the provinces, on which her name was stamped, sometimes joined with her son's but oftener alone. At her bidding, or by her influence, priesthoods were formed and temples rose in all parts of the empire to extend the worship of the deified Augustus ; and in- scriptions still preserved upon them testify to her pride of self-assertion, as well as to the policy with which she strove to surround the imperial family with the solemn associations of religious awe. To that end jj^^p^jj^;^ she also enlisted the fine arts in her service, patronage of and found employment for the first sculptors, . engravers, and painters of the day in multiplying copies of the features of the ruling race, and endearing them to/ the imagination of the masses. The Senate was not slow to encourage the ambition of Augusta. Vote after vote was passed as the members tried to outdo each other in their flattery, till they raised her even to the foremost place, and proposed to call the Em- peror Livius to do her honour. Tiberius, in- jiberius deed, demurred to this ; and before long there jJ^^^^^^J^; were signs clear enough to curious eyes that he honour paid was ashamed to feel he owed her all, impatient '° Augusta. of her tutelage, and jealous of her high pretensions. Men spoke in meaning whispers to each other, and wits made A.M. E Coolness in their rela- tions, but no open rupture. 50 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 14-37. epigrams on the growing coldness between mother and son. They said he vainly strove to keep her in the shade. Old as she was, she clung to power and state, and relied on her talents and influence to hold her own. The Senate and the camp she could not visit, but in all else she claimed to rule. As he seemed to shun the eyes of men she came forward more in public, won popular favour by her courtesies and generous gifts, gathered her crowd of cour- tiers round her, conferred at her will the offices of state, and tried to overawe the courts of justice when the interests of her favourites were at stake. In the circle of her intimates we hear of irreverent wits whose caustic speeches did not spare the Emperor himself; and once, we read, when words ran high between Augusta and her son, she took from her bosom old letters of Augustus and read sarcastic passages that bore on his faults of manner or of temper. This coolness did not lead to open rupture, for his old habits of obedience were confirmed enough to bear the strain, and he submitted to her claims, though She used hei grudgingly and ungraciously enough, wisely" on the ^^ the whole she used her influence wisely, whole. and while she ruled, the policy of state was cool and wary. She could be stern and resolute enough when force seemed needful. She had given orders for the death of Agrippa Postumus as soon as his grandfather had ceased to breathe. She did not plead for pity with her son when he let a wretched death of slow starvation in her prison, and took at last his vengeance on her paramour for the mockery and outrage of the past. It is likely and perhaps ^^^^ ^^^t her quick eye saw the use that might be made of the old laws of treason, which had come down from the Common- wealth. They had been meant to strike at men who had by open act brought dishonour or disaster A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 51 though she could be stem, Juha die suggested the new use of the ' leges majestatis.' i on the state. Sulla was the first to make them cover libellous words, and Augustus had, though sparingly, enforced them in like cases. The Caesar had already stepped into the people's place and screened his majesty against so-called treason ; but when the Caesar had been deified, any crime against his person was heightened by the sin of sacrilege. In the language of the law obedience to the living Emperor soon became confounded with the religious worship of the dead, and loyalty became in theory a sort of adoration. Any disrespect might carry danger with it. Jesting words against the late Emperor might be construed into blasphemy when the Emperor had become a god. His likeness must be held in honour, and it might be fatal even to beat a slave who clung for safety to his statue, or to treat carelessly his effigy upon a coin. A few such cases were enough to increase enormously the imperial prestige^ and ex- tend to the living members of the family some of the reverence that was gathering round the dead. But though Augusta had few scruples she had no taste for needless bloodshed, and while she lived she certainly exercised a restraining influence upon her son. Another of the Emperor's family exerted a force of like restraint though in a very different way. Germanicus was the darling of the legions, and might at any foment be a pretender to the throne. He had calmed his mutinous soldiery, led them more than once into the heart of Germany, visited the battlefield where Varus fell, and brought back with him in triumph the captive wife and child of Armi- nius, the national hero of the Germans. It might seem dangerous to leave him longer at the head who was of an army so devoted to their general— fromGer- dangerous perhaps to bring him back to many, win the hearts of men at Rome. But his presence Restraining force exerted by the fear of Germani- cus, E 3 52 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 14-37. and sent on a mission to the East. might be useful in the East, for the kingdoms of Parthia and Armenia had been torn by civil war and thrown into collision by the claims of rival candidates for power, and by wars of succession due in part at least to the intrigues of Rome. A general of high repute was needed to protect the frontier and appease the neighbouring powers, and the death of some of the vassal kings of Asia Minor had left thrones vacant, and wide lands to be annexed or orga- nized. It was resolved to recall Germanicus from his post and to dispatch him to the Syrian frontier on this important mission. On the north there was little to be gained by border warfare, which provoked but could not crush the resistance of the German tribes, and there was wisdom in following the counsel of Augustus not to aim at further conquests. Germanicus might be unwilling to retire ; but the duties to which he was transferred were of high dignity and trust. Yet men noted with alarm that Silanus, who was linked to him by ties of marriage, was recalled from Syria at the time, and the haughty, self-willed Cnaeus Piso made governor in his stead. Dark rumours spread abroad that he had been cho- sen for the task of watching and of thwarting the young prince, and that his wife, Plancina, had been schooled in all the petty jealousies and spite of which Agrippina was the mark. So far at least all was mere suspicion, but there was no doubt that when they went to Syria the attitude of Piso was haughty and offensive. He made a bold parade of independence, disputed the autho- TT- cr ■ rity and cavilled at the words and actions of His offensive "^ conduct to Germanicus, tampered even with the loyalty of Germanicus. ^^^ soldicrs, and drove him at last to open feud. When Gennanicus fell ill soon afterwards Piso showed in- decent glee, and though he was on the eve of quitting Syria he lingered till further news arrived. He put down by The ominous appointment of Cn. Piso to be go- vernor of Syria. A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 53 • 1 r. the oDen rejoicing of the crowd at Antioch when Iwrfu ttr^came. slu he waited, and the murmur teaK^^^^^ sickness was his work, and that poison and ^^M^ been used to gratify his spite and perhaps ,ttoL Emperor's bidding. Germanicus himself was ready to believe the story and to fear the worst, .^ho^be-^^^ The suspicions gained force as he g-w weake^^ He was ^ and his last charge on his deathbed to his p^ p^,^. V^ r.A. was to expose his murderer and avenge a.d. 19. SeatrThr^^^^^ story was received at Rome with pas- his deatn. n ^ ^ His father's memory, his sr;r: li ;r -.., ... ^.^^^ -^ rHsses and men recalled the ommous words that those whom Ae people love die early.' One after another thetr favrrites had passed away, cut off in the sprmg-tune of he^ youth • and now the last of them, the best beloved nerhaps of all, had been sent away from them, they mur- ^"S to the far East to die from the nox,ous a.rof Syna. or it might be from the virulence of Piso s hate, passionate S i^^^ more outspoken was the grief when the ^^^ Smourners'reached the shores of Italy hudea*was A r.-,^^FA in sad procession through the and passed in sa p ^^^^^^ Agrippina, and the Sen .atJered'round the funeral urn that held his ashes all classes of society vied with each other in he f , „f ,hHr svmpathy. There was no flattery m such of mourn r for few believed that Tiberius was r ;, aid™ bought that he was glad at the loss that they regretted. Wa^it grief that kept h,^^ ir. iViP mlace or fear lest men should read nis v he*t> was it due respect to his brave nephew to give S;ca;!t ^how of fun-eral honours, and to ^own at the spontaneous outburst of his people's sorrow Was ^ love of justice or a sense of guilt that made him so s ow to puniibPiso's crime, so quick to discourage the zeal of 54 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 14-37. but no proof of foul play. his accusers ? They could only murmur and suspect, for nothing certain could be known. At Piso's trial there was evidence enough of angry words and bitter feelings, of acts of insubordination, almost of civil strife, but no proof that Germanicus was mur- dered, still less that Tiberius was privy to the deed. It (was, indeed, whispered abroad that the accused had evi- dence enough to prove that he only did what he was bidden ; but if so, he feared to use it, a-id before the trial was over he died by his own hand. The popular suspicion against Tiberius was no mere after-thought of later days, v/hen Rome had learnt to know the darker features of his character. From the first they had never loved him, and the more they saw the less they liked him. He seemed of dark and gloomy temper, with no grace or geniality of manner, shunning the pleasures of Reasons. ^^^ pcople, and seldom generous or open- handed. He had even an ungracious way of doing what was right, and spoiled a favour by his way of grafting it. There was such reserve and constraint in what he said that men thought him a profound dissembler and imputed to him crimes he had no thought of. They seemed to have divined the cruelty that was still latent, and to have detested! him before his acts deserved their hate. Even in the early years the satires current in the city and the epigrams passed from mouth to mouth show us how intense was the dislike; and soon we see enough to justify it. One of the most alarming features of the times in which men traced his influence was the rapid spread of The'dela- professional accusers, of the delatores^ of Empirf '^' ^^°"^ ^^ '■ead, indeed, before, but who now nowMrst became a power in the state. The Roman appeare . j^^ ^^ ^^^j^ ixm^s looked to private citizens to expose wrong-doing, and to impeach civil or political The people disliked Tiberius from the first. A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 55 offenders Sometimes it was moral indignation, ofterer it was the bitterness of party feeling, and oftener still the llsion of ambition, that brought them forward as ac- cu e s The great men of the Republic were constantly eneased in legal strife. Cato, for example, was put on h^ defence some four-and-forty times, and appeared still oftener a^ accuser. It was commonly the first step in a young man's career to single out a Prommera c„™mo„^^ member of the rival party, to charge mm v^.^^^ with some political offence, and to prove m „em un^dej^ tv,^ attack his courage or knowledge of the aws This practice naturally intensified the bitterness of oartv struggles, and often led to family feuds It took ^o Lme extent th^ place of the duelling of modern times Lnd kd more than once to a sort of hereditary 'vendetta. It if eneTs rved the passions of a party than the real nterest of justice ; and, prized as it was as a safeguard and privilege of freedom, fostered license more than Uberty Yet, as if this tendency were not strong enough already, measures were taken to confirm n^ r as_ ^ More sordid motives were appealed to, ana ^,i„„,^,vthe 1. „f mnnev bribes were held out to spur zeal of o^ the a'cusek eal These, it may be, ■»'— seemed more needful, as moral sympathies were growing sUoTger and the party passions of the Commonwealth were cooUng down Certainly the meaner motives must have been most potent in the days of the early Empire, then r^en came forward to enforce the sumptuary i mrrriage laws which were almost universally dis- "*" We hear little of the delatores as a class under Augustus ; but in the days of his successor they J)ecame almost at once of prominent importance The wider range given to the laws of treason, the vagueness of the crimes that fell within their scope, and the 56 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 14-37. terror of the penalties that threatened the accused, Their influ- ^rmed the informers with a class of weapons Tiberius'^^'* ^^'^^^^^ they had not known before. With a ruler like Tiberius they became quite a new wheel in the political machinery. It suited his reserve to keep himself in the background while the objects of his fear or his suspicions were attacked, to learn the early stages of the trial from men who had no official connexion with himself, while the Senate or the law courts were responsible for the result, and he could step m at last to temper, if he pleased, the rigour of the sentence. He did not own them for his instruments, refused even to speak to them directly on the subject \ but with instinctive shrewdness they interpreted his looks, divined his wishes, and acted with eagerness 'upon a word that fell from any confidant whom he and increase Seemed to trust. No wonder that their num- in numbers. bers grew apace, for it seemed an easy road to wealth and honour. Settling even by threes and fours upon their victims, they disputed the precedence of the attack, for if they were successful the goods of the con- demned might be distributed among them ; and when an enemy of Caesar fell, quite a shower of official titles was ramed upon them. They came from all classes alike. Some there were of ancient lineage and good old names ; some were adventurers from the provinces who had come to push their fortunes in the capital, some even of the meanest rank who crowded into a profession where a ready tongue and impudence seemed the only needful stock in trade. For all were trained in early youth to speak and plead and hold their own in the keen fence Early train- of words. In the days of the Republic all mg in ora- »v^ * i ■• r ^ "^^ tory still "^"st learn to speak who would make their conunon. way in public life, and the training of the schools remained the same when all besides was changed A.D. 14-37- Tiberius, S7 around them. The orator's harangues had been silenced in the Forum. No Cicero might hope to sway the crowd or guide the Senate, but they disputed still and declaimed and laboured at the art of rhetoric as if ^^^^^^ ^^ oratory were the one end and aim of life. Uttie use^m^ When life opened on them in real earnest ' they soon discovered how slowly honest and unaided talent could hope to make its way to fame. The con- ditions of the times were changed, and one only way was left to copy the great orators of earlier days. They could yet win wealth and honour, and make ^^^ ^^^^^^ the boldest spirits quail, and be a power in t^^the infor- the state, and gain perhaps the Emperor's "^^^^' favour, by singling out some man of mark, high m ottice ^ or in rank, and furbishing afresh against him the weapons drawn from the armoury of the laws of treason. If they were not weighted with nice scruples, if they could work upon the ruler's fears or give substance to his vague suspicions ; if they were dexterous enough to rake up useful scraps of evidence and put their lies into a telhng form, then they might hope to amass great fortunes speedily and to rise to high official rank. Did any wish to pav off an old debt of vengeance, or to force a recogni- tion f^om the classes that despised them, or to retrieve a shattered fortune and to find a royal road to fame, it needed only to swell the ranks of the informers, to choose a victim and invent a crime. If no plausible story could be found to ruin him, it was always possible to put into his mouth some threats against the Emperor's life some bold lampoon upon his vices, which they found all ready to their hand. The annals of the times are ^^^ ^^^^^ full of tales which show how terrible was the objects of power they wielded. Through every social class and circle the poison of suspicion spread, for every friend might prove a traitor and be an informer in dis- 58 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 14-37. A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 59 guise. It might be perilous to speak about affairs of and caused ^^^^^' ^^^ ^^^ frankest words of confidence widespread might be reported, and be dangerously mis- mistrust construed. It might be dangerous to be too silent, for fear of being taken for a malcontent. A man's worst enemies might be in his home, for every house was full of slaves, who learned or guessed the master's secrets, and whose eyes were always on the watch to divine the inmost feelings of his heart. In a few minutes, by a few easy words, they could wreak their vengeance for the slights of years, gain their freedom even by their master's death, and with it such a slice of what was his as would make them rich beyond their wildest dreams. No innocence could be quite secure against such foes, for it was as easy to invent as to report a crime. No council-chamber was SQ safe but that some traitorous ear could lurk unseen, Cor in one trial it appeared that three senators were hidden between the ceiling and the roof to hear the conversation of the man whom they accused. There was no and clanger, i • j c ^■ c • ^ kmd of life without its dangers. To eschew politics was not enough. The poet's vanity might lure him to his Vuin if he ventured to compose an elegy upon the prince's son, when the noble subject of his verse was sick, not dead. The historian's life might pay the penalty for a few bold words of freedom, as Cremutius Cordus had to die for calling the murderers of Caesar the last of the old Romans. Philosophy itself might be suspected, for a lecture on the * whole duty of man ' might recognise another standard than the Emperor's will and pleasure from which ^"^ handle his special faults too freely. There there was no was no escape from dangers such as these, escape, ^n earlier days men might leave Rome before the trial was quite over, and shun the worst rigour of the law by self-chosen banishment from home. But the strong arm of the imperial ruler could reach as far as the i farthest limits of the empire, and flight seemed scarcely possible beyond. One only road of flight lay ^^^ept in open, and to that many had recourse. When suicide. the fatal charges had been laid, men often did not stay to brook the ignominy of the trial, or face the informer's torrent of invectives, but had their veins opened in the bath, or by poison or the sword ended the life which they'despaired to save. They hoped to rescue by their speedy death some Uttle of their fortune for their children, and to secure at least the poor advantage of a decent funeral for their bodies. It was the Emperor's suspicious temper that increased so largely the influence of the delatores ; but there was one man who gained his trust, and gained ^^^^^^, it only to abuse it. Lucius yElius Sejanus "^^^y^^^^ had long since won favour by artful insight into character and affected zeal and self-devotion. His j flattery was too subtle to offend, his duplicity so skil-j ful as to mask completely his own pride and ambition,: while he fed the watchful jealousy of his master by whis-j pered doubts of others. His father, a knight of Tuscan stock, had been praefect of the imperial guards, ten bat- talions of which were quartered in different places round the city. When the son was raised to the same rank, his first act of note was to induce the Emperor to concentrate the guards in one camp near the gates, as the ^^.^ ^^^.^^ permanent garrison of Rome. That done, he power and *^ -1 J -11 r 4.1,^ favour. spared no pams to win the goodwill of the soldiers, to secure the devotion of the officers, and raise his tools to posts of trust. To the real power thus secured, the rapidly increasing favour of Tiberius lent visible autho- rity. In official language he was sometimes named as the partner of the ruler's labours ; senators and nobles of old family courted his patronage with humble words; official titles were bestowed at his discretion, and spies and 6o The Earlier Empire. a.d. i\-yj. He schemed to revenge himself on Drusus for the insult of a blow. informers speedily were proud to take rank in his secret service. While ambitious hopes were growing within him with the self-confidence of a proud and resolute nature, the passion of revenge came in to de- fine and to mature them. Drusus, the young son of Tiberius, whom we read of as coarse? choleric, and cruel, happened in a brawling mood to strike Sejanus on the face. The blow was one day to be washed out in blood, but for the moment it was borne in silence. He made no sign to rouse suspicion, but turned to Li villa, the prince's wife, and plied her with his wily words, seconded by winning grace and personal Seduced beauty. The weak woman yielded to the Liviila, tempter. Flinging away her womanly honour, and with it tenderness and scruple, she sacrificed her and poisoned ^usband to .her lover. With her help he had Drusus, Drusus poisoned, and so removed the heir- presumptive to the throne. Next came the turn of Agrippina and her children. Between the widowed mother and Tiberius a certain coolness had grown up already, which it was easy to in- crease. Her frank, impetuous, high-souled nature could not breathe freely in the palace. Proud of her husband's memory and the promise of her children, and too re- liant on the people's love, she could not stoop to weigh her words, to curb her feelings, and school herself to be wary and submissive. His dark looks and freezing manner stung her often to impatience, and she allowed herself to show too clearly the want of sympathy between them. The ill-timed warmth of Agrippina's friends, the and widened ^^''^ insinuations of Sejanus, widened the the breach breach already made, and each was made to Tiberius and fear the other and hint at poison or at treason. Agnppma, 'pj^g thundcr-clouds had gathered fast, and the storm would soon have burst between them, had not A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 6t Augusta stayed his hand and stepped m with milder counsels. Jealous as he may have been, the son still submitted to the mother's sway. He feared an open rup- ture while he chafed at her interference and restramt. Then the schemer thought of parting them. Away from Rome and from his mother, Tiberius would and^urged^ breathe more freely, and lean more on his ^^^^^ ro^c trusted servant, and he himself also could andAugusta. mature his plans more safely if he were not always watched by that suspicious eye. For twelve years the Emperor had scarcely left the city ; but he was weary at last of moving in the same round of public labours, of meeting always the same curious eyes, full as it seemed of fear or of mistrust. The counsels of Sejanus took root and bore their fruit in season. At first Rome only heard that its ruler was travelling southward, then that he was xihenus^ at Caprese, the picturesque island in the bay caprese. of Naples which had tempted Augustus with a.d. 26. its charms and passed by purchase into his estates. Soon, they thought, he would be back again, but time went on and still he came not ; and though he talked at times of his return, and came twice almost withm sight, he never set foot within their walls again. After three years he heard at Capreae of his mother's death but he was not present at her funeral, -j.^^^ j^ath long neglected even to give the needful orders, °| Augusta and set at nought the last wishes of her will. Her death removed the only shield of Agrippina and her children. One after another their chief adherents had been swept away. The old generals that loved Allowed by them had been struck down by the informers ; '^l^l^^ the relentless jealousy of the Emperor and and^her^ Sejanus had for years set spies upon them *^ ' '""• to report and exaggerate unguarded words. All the ^2 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 14-37. charges which had been gathered up meantime were at once laid before the Senate in a message full of savage harshness ; the mother and her two eldest children were hurried off to separate prisons, with litters closed, lest the memory of Germanicus should stir the people. They languished there awhile, then perished miserably by sword and famine. There was another whom the Emperor had long looked at with unfriendly eyes. Asinius Gallus, a marked figure The fate of ^" ^^^. ^^S^^^ circlcs, had taken to his house ^sinius the wife whom Tiberius had been forced in- deed to put away, yet loved too well to feel _^ kindly to the man who took his place. He had been named by the last Emperor among the few who might aspire to the throne, and was possibly the child the promise of whose manhood had been heralded by the fourth Eclogue of Vergil. He was certainly forward and outspok^en, with something of presumption even in his flattery ; he had often given offence by hasty words, and above all in the early scene of mutual mistrust and fear in the Senate House he had tried to force Tiberius to use plain lan- guage and drop his hypocritic trifling. He was made to pay a hard penalty for his boldness. The Emperor stayed his hand for years, allowed him to pay his court and join m the debates among the rest, and even summoned him to Capreas to his table. But even while he sat there the news came that the Senate had condemned him at the bidding of their master, and he left the palace for a prison. For years he pined in utter loneliness, while the death which he would have welcomed as a boon was still denied him. Meantime Sejanus ruled at Rome with almost abso- lute power. His master's seemingly unbounded trust The great made soldiers, senators, informers vie with each other in submissive service ; his favour A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 63 y power of Sejanus at , .^.v,v.* Rome. was the passport to preferment ; his enmity was foUowed by a charge of treason or a threatening IS missive from Capre^ to the Senate. All classes streamed to his ante-chambers with their greetings, and the world of Rome flattered, feared, or hated him. The Emperor heard all intelligence through him, coloured and garbled as he pleased, approved his counsels, re-echoed his suspi- cions and daily resigned more of the burden of rulemto his hands There had been no sign of mistrust even when he had asked for the hand of Livilla, the widow of the murdered Drusus, though consent had been delayed and reproof of his ambition hinted. Yet, wary as Sejanus was, he could not hide from envious eyes the pride and ^ ambition of his heart. He grew haughtier His haughti- with the confidence of power, and men whis- "^^s- pered that in moments of self-indulgence he spoke of ^ himself as the real autocrat of Rome, and sneered at his master as the Monarch of the Isle. But that master's eyes at length were opened. His brother's widow, An- ^. tonia, long retired from public life, had kept a watchful eye on all that passed, and sent a trust>' messenger at leneth to warn him. He saw his danger in- Suspicions of n,ii5i.ii «. ^1 . „^„J Tiberius stantly, felt it with a vividness that seemea ^^ j^^gt^ to paralyse his will and stay his hand. For aroused, many months we have the curious picture of the monarch of the Roman world brooding, scheming, and conspiring against his servant. For months his letters were so worded as to keep Sejanus balanced between fear and hope. Sometimes he writes as if his health was fail- His dissimu- incr and the throne would soon be vacant, i^^ion. sometimes promotes his friend and loads him with ca- resses, and then again his strength is suddenly restored and he writes fretfully and sternly. The Senate is kept A also in suspense, but notes that he no more calls the fa- vourite his colleague, and that he raises a per- ^^^ ^^^^^ ^ . - sonal enemy to be consul. The bolt falls at last, jjj^e^senate- Suddenly there arrives in Rome a certaifi Macro °"^^' ^ with letters from Capreae for the Senate. He carries the 64 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 14-37. A.D. 14-37- Tiberius, 65 where the Emperor's letter ' verbosa et grandis epistola' is read, i commission in his pocket which makes him the new praefect of the guard, and has been told to concert mea- sures with Laco, the prasfect of the watch. He meets Sejanus by the way, alarmed to find that there is no mes- sage for himself, and reassures him with the tale that the letter brings him the high dignity of tribunician power. While Sejanus hurries in triumph to the Senate House, Macro shows his commission to the praetorians and sends them to their quarters far away, while Laco guards the Senate House with his watch. The reading of the Em- peror's letter then begins. It is long and curiously involved in style, deals with many subjects, with here and there a slighting word against Sejanus, to which, however, he pays scant attention, as his thoughts are occupied with the signs of favour soon to follow. Suddenly comes the unlooked-for close. Two of his nearest intimates are denounced for punishment, and he is to be lodged at once in prison. Those who sat near had slipped away from him meantime ; Laco with his guards is by his side, while the Senate rises on all sides and vents in angry cries the ^ . accumulated hate of years. He is dragcred and bejanus rr i • j is dragged off Oil to his dungeon. The people on the way ,*°f.?.'3i. S^'^^t t^in^ with savage jeers, throw down the statues raised long since in his honour, and the praetorians in their distant quarter make no sign. The Senate takes courage to give the order for his death, and soon all that is left of him is a name in history to point the moral of an unworthy favourite's rise and fall. His death rid Tiberius of his fears, but was fatal to the Cruelty o party who had looked to Sejanus as their SefriendJor ^^^^^' ^^^ possibly had joined him in partisans of treasonable plots against his master. Post Sejanus, ^f^^j. ^^^^ brought the death-warrants of fresh victims. His kinsmen were the first to suffer, then came the turn of friends and tools. All who owed to him their advancement, all who had shown him sP--l ^-our pa^ the hard penalty of their imprudence. The thirst tor blood grew fiercer daily, for the wife of Sejanus on her death-bed told the story of the poison of which h„ „„„ Drusus died, and the truth was known at last. ^^^^ ^^ Tiberius had hidden his grief when his son Dn,sus' died and treated with mocking irony the Sns of Ilium who came somewhat late w.h w^rds of condolence, telling them that he was sorry that they too had lost a great man named Hector; but the grief he had then nof shown turned now to thirst for vengeance^ On any plea that anger or suspicion could d.ctat fresh names were added to the list of the accused, till the crZded prisons could hold no more. The pr.torjans whose loyalty had been mistrusted were allowed to show how little they had cared for their commander by taking wild vengeance on his partisans ; the populace also roamed the streets in riotous mobs to prove their tardy hatred for his memory. In a passage of Ae Emperor s memoirs that has come down to us we read the charge that the fallen minister had plotted against Agrippma and her children. We may compare with this the fact tha the order for the death of the second son was given atter th^ traitor's fall. He was starved to death in the dungeon of the palace, after trying in his agony to gnaw the bed on which he 'lay, and the -te-book of his gao er ga.e a detailed account of his last words and dying struggles At Caprese also there was no lack of horrors, i nere too the victims came to be tried under his eye, it is said to be even tortured, and to glut his thirst for The mais_ bloodshed. He watched their agonies upon ^^ed at the rack, and was so busy with that work that Capre,., when an old friend came from Rhodes at his own wish, he mistook the name of his invited guest and ordered him A.M. F \ 66 fc T/ie £arli^ Empire. a.d. 14-37. A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 67 too to be tortured like the rest. Some asked to be put out of their misery by speedy death, but he refused, say- ing that he had not yet forgiven them. Even in trifling matters the hke severity broke out. A poor fisherman dimbed the steep rocks at Capreae to offer him a fine lobster ; but the Emperor, startled in his walk by his unbidden visitor, had his face gashed with its sharp claws to teach him more respect for rank. Nor is it only and foul cruclty that stains his name. Sensuality with- debauches. out disguise or limit, unnatural lusts too foul to be described, debauchery that shrank from no excess, " these are the charges of the ancient writers that brand him with eternal infamy. Over these it may be well to drop the veil and hasten onward to the close. At length it was seen that his strength was breaking His death up, ''^i^d the eyes of the little court at ^A.D. 37). Capre?e turned to Caius, the youngest son of Agrippina and Germanicus, whom, though with few signs of love, he had pointed out as his successor. The physician whispered that his life was ebbing, and he sank into a swoon that seemed the sleep of death. All turned to the living from the dead and saluted him as the new Emperor, when they were startled with the news hastened *^^^ ^^^ closed eyes were opened and possibly by Tiberius was still alive/ But then — so ran lheyoung°^ the tale all Rome believed— the prasfect Caius. Macro bade the young prince be bold and prompt : together they flung a pillow on the old man's head and smothered him like a mad dog as he lay. The startling story of his later years is given with like features in the pages of three authors, Tacitus, Suetonius, and Dion Cassius, and none besides of ancient times de- scribe his life or paint his character with any fulness of detail. But modern critics have come forward to contest the verdict of past history, and to demand a new hearing later critics in favour of a new esti- mate of the character of Tiberius. At the worst, they say, Rome only suffered, while the Empire was well go- verned ; of the case. We must stay, therefore, to see what is the nature of their plea. They remind us that, at the worst, it was only the society of Rome that felt the weight of his heavy The pleas of hand. Elsewhere, they say, through all the provinces of the vast empire his rule was wise and wary. His firm hand curbed the license of his agents ; he kept his legions posted on the frontiers, but had no wish for further conquests, and in dealing with neighbouring powers relied on policy rather than on force. The shelter that he offered to the fugitive chiefs of Ger- many and the pretenders to the Eastern thrones gave him always an excuse for diplomacy and intrigues, which distracted the forces that were dangerous. Provincial writers like ^. Strabo the geographer, Philo the philosopher, and Jose- phus the historian, speak of his rule with thankfulness and fervour ; and the praises seem well-founded till we come to the last years of his life. Then, says ^^^ ^^^^ ^^y Suetonius, he sunk into a sloth which neg- ^e^^^^Vith lected every public duty. He would not sign some quaiifi- commissions, nbr change the governors once appointed, nor fill up the vacancies that death had caused, nor give orders to chastise the neighbouring tribes that disturbed the border countries with their forays. It is true the Empire was so little centralized as yet, and so much free life remained in the old institutions of the provinces, that distant peoples scarcely suffered from the torpor of the central power, and, once relieved from the abuses of the old Republic, were well content if they yet the de- were only left alone. Still the degradation 1^-^-;!^;;°/ of Rome, if real, must have reacted on them, have reacted for she attracted to the centre the notabilities of every land. She sent forth in turn her thought, her F 2 ji The testi- mony of Valerius Maximus and Velleius Paterculus is not worth much. es The Earlier Empire, a.d. 14-37 culture, and her social influence, and the pulsations of her moral life were felt in countries far away. The heroism of her greatest men raised the tone of the world's thought, and examples of craven fear and meanness surely tended to dispirit and degrade it. If we return now to the details of his rule at home what evidence can his defenders find to stay our judgment? They can point to the contemporary praises of Valenus Maximus, a literary courtier of the meanest type, and to the enthusiastic words in which Velleius Paterculus speaks of his old general's virtues. But the terms of the latter do not sound like a frank soldier's language ; the style is forced and subtle, and the value of his praises of Tiberius may well be questioned when in the same pages we find a fulsome flattery of Augustus and Sejanus that passes all bounds of belief. We may note also that his history ends before the latter period of this reign begins. In default of testimony of a , r stronger kind, attention has been drawn to the -bias and marks of bias and exaggeration m the story rtSfcom-" commonly received, to the wild rumours wan- mon story. ^Qj^jy spread against a monarch who had never won his people's love, and hghtly credited by writers who reflected the prejudices of noble coteries ofl"ended by the unyielding firmness of his rule. On such evidence it has been thought enough to assume that the memoirs Theassump- of Agrippina, Nero's mother, blackened the tionsasto name of Tiberius and had a sinister in- of Agrip°''' fluence on later history ; to imagine a duel Jtm'gk"^^^^ of life and death between the imperial go- ^ between rival yemment and the partisans of the widow and ^ Rome"' ^' children of Germanicus ; to believe, but with- out proof, that the chief victims of the times were all con- spirators, who paid the just forfeit of their lives ; to point A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 69 and the guilt of the victims of Tiberius, are made without any evidence. to the malignant power of Sejanus and to fancy that the real clemency of Tiberius took at last a sombre hue in the presence of universal trea- chery. Whence this strange mania of dis- loyalty can have come is not made clear, nor how it was that of the twenty trusted senators chosen for the privy council only two or three were left alive nor why Drusus, the son of Germanicus, was mur- dered when the fall of Sejanus had removed the tempter. Nor can the stories of the debauchery at Capreas be lightly set aside without disproof. They left a track too lurid on the popular imagination, they Nor can we , stamped their impress even in vile words on -^^-^^Vthe the language of the times, and gave a fataL deb^auchejy impulse to the tendencies of the corrupted art that left the records of its shame among the ruins ot Pompeii. j *:,of It may seem strange, indeed, as has been urged, that a character unstained for many years by gross defects should reveal so late in life such darker features. But we have no evidence which will enable us to ^^^.^^^ rewrite the story of these later years, though writers may^ on some points we have reason to mistrust ^^^ h^rsh an the fairness of the historians whose accounts ^--j;,^,^ alone have reached us. They do seem to in some have judged too harshly acts and words ' which admit a fair and honourable colour. Their con- clusions do not always tally with the facts which they bring forward, and seem sometimes inconsistent with each other; the number and details of the criminal trials which they describe often fail to justify their charges of excessive cruelty in the emperor, and many of their state- ments as to his secret feeUngs and designs must have been incapable of proof. It was probably from pru- dence and not from mere irresolution that the prince con- 70 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 14-37. A.D. 14-37- Tiberius. 71 y tinued his provincial governors so long in office ; it may have been from true policy rather than from jealousy that he recalled Germanicus from useless forays on the border lands, from good sense rather than from want of spirit that he discouraged all excessive honours to him- and reported Self. In these and many like cases Tacitus scandalous ^^^ other writers may have given a false gossips too . , , ^ . 1 lightly ; reading of his motives, as they have certainly reported without weighing the scandalous gossip that blackened the memory of a ruler who discredited his best qualities by ungracious manners, and often made his virtues seem as odious as his vices. But of the natural character of his younger years we know little. We see him trained in a school of rigid repression and hypocrisy, cowering under the gibes and censures of Augustus, wavering between the extremes of hope and fear, tortured by anxiety at Rhodes, drilled afterwards into an impassive self-restraint, till natural gaiety and frankness disappeared. When power came at last it found him soured by rancour and resentment, haunted by suspicion and mistrust, afraid of the Senate and Germanicus, and yet ashamed to own his fears ; too keen-eyed to relish flattery, yet dreading any show of independence; curbed by his mother, and spurred on by Sejanus into ferocity inspired by fear ; with an intellectual preference for good government, but still with no tenderness or sympathy for those whom he ruled. Possibly the partisans of Agrip- pina troubled his peace with their bold words and sedi- tious acts, or even conspired to set her children in his place, and drove him to stern measures in his own de- fence. At length, when the only man whom he had fondly trusted played him false, his old mistrust set- tled into a general contempt for other men and for the but we know little of his earlier cha- racter, as he was trained in a school of rigid self- restraint and dissimula- tion. restraints of their opinion. These safeguards gone, he mav perhaps have plunged into the depths of cruelty and lust and self-contempt which made Pliny speak of him as the gloomiest of men—' tristissimus hommum, — and led him to confess in his letters to the Senate that he was suffering from a long agony of despairing wretch- edness Even from the distant East, we read, came the scornful letters in which the King of Parthia poured re- proaches on the cruelty and debaucheries of his brother Emperor of the West. CHAPTER III. CALIGULA.— A.D. 37-41- THE tidings of the gloomy emperor's death were heard at Rome with universal joy. The senators and men of mark began to breathe more freely after the The^gene^ral reign of terror ; the people who had suffered ^^^^h of less but for whom little had been done in the Tibenus way of shows and largess, began to cry about the streets, < Tiberius to the Tiber ! ' and to talk of flinging his dis- honoured body like carrion to the crows. All eyes turned with joy to the young Cams. The fond regrets with which they thought of Germanicus, his father, the memory of Agrippina's cruel fate, ^^^ ^^ ^^^ and the piteous stories of her murdered chil- ^cession of dren, caused an outburst of general sympathy for the last surviving son. In early childhood he had been the soldiers' darling. Carried as a baby to the 72 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 37-41. camp upon the Rhine, he had been dressed in mimic uniform and called by the familiar name of named Call- ^ ,. , r i • i i ,-i , guia by the Caligula, from the tmy boots he wore like the egionanes, legionaries around him. The mutinous troops who were deaf to the general's appeal were shamed into submission when they saw their little nursling carried for safety from their camp. For some years little had been known of him. After Agrippina's fall he had been brought up in seclusion by his grandmother Antonia, and thence summoned to Capreae by the old Emperor while still a youth. He showed at that time a who had marked power of self-restraint, betrayed no C?"rece with resentments or regrets, and baffled the spies Tiberius, who were set to report his words. Yet Tibe- rius, who watched him narrowly, is said to have discerned the latent passions that were to break out one day in the license of absolute power; but still he advanced him to the rank of the pontificate, allowed him to be thought his pro- bable successor, and named him in his will as co-heir with the young Tiberius, his grandchild. Besides named in his this the prsifect Macro was secretly won over will ^s CO- ^Q secure the support of the praetorian troops, younggrand- and together they waited for and perhaps hastened the death of the old man. No such support, indeed, seemed needed, for at Rome there was a popular movement in his favour. The people rushed into the Senate House with acclamations when he came, they showered endearing names upon him, the claims of his young cousin were ignored, and at the age of however, ' twenty-four Caligula became the sole mo- were ignored. j^^j.^j^ Qf ^j^g Roman world. The young sove- reign was welcomed with a general outburst of excitement. Not only in the city which for long years had not seen its ruler, but even in the provinces, there were signs every- where of widespread joy. In three months more than one A.D. 37-41- Caligula, 73 hundred and sixty thousand victims fell in thanksgiving upon the altars. The young sovereign could scarcely be unmoved amid the general gladness. Senate, ^he general soldiers, people, all were lavish in their ho- gladness. nours ; the treasury was full of the hoards that had been gathering there for years ; there was nothing yet to cross his will or cloud his joy. His first acts were in unison with the glad tone of public feeling, and did much to in- crease it. The exiles were brought back return of the from the lonely islands where they pined ; the exiles, works of the bold writers, Labienus and the like, were allowed once more to pass from hand to hand; the ardour of the informers cooled, and a deaf ear was ^^^ ^.^^^ ^^ turned to warning letters ; the independence brighter of the magistrates was re-asserted, and the accounts of the imperial budget fully published. Some show was even made awhile of restoring the elections to the popular vote, while a round of civic spectacles was arranged upon a scale of long-disused magnificence. The bright hopes thus raised were all shortlived. The extravagant popularity which had greeted him at first, the dizzy sense of undisputed power, ^,^^^^_ were enough to turn a stronger head. His peror'spopu- nervous system had always been weak, ggn^of" Epileptic from his boyhood, he suffered also p^^^J^J^™^^ from constant sleeplessness, and even when he slept his rest was broken with wild dreams. His health gave way soon after his accession ; and the anxiety on all sides was so intense, the prayers offered for his recovery so excessive, that they seemed to have finally disturbed the balance of his reason. Henceforth his life is one strange medley of grandiose aims and incoherent fancies, relieved at times by lucid intervals of acute and mocking insight, but rendered horrible by a fiend's cruelty and a satyr's lust. In a short time Rome was 74 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 37-41. A.D. 37-41' Calimla, 75 startled by the news that its young Emperor claimed to be a god already. It was not enough for divine him to wait to be canonized like others after honours. death. He towered already above the kings of the earth ; the one thing wanting was to enjoy divine honours while he lived. To this end temples must rise at once to do him honour ; priesthoods be established for his service ; countless statues of the gods be brought from Greece and take in exchange the likeness of his head for their own. The palace was extended to the Forum, and the valley spanned with stately arches, that the shrine of Castor and Pollux might serve as a sort of vestibule to his own house, and that he might take his seat as by right between the heavenly brothers and be the object of admiring worship. From a god something more is looked for than the works of man, and so he was always dreaming of great schemes. He threw a bridge across from great Baise to Puteoli, upwards of three miles in schemes. length, and marched along it in state to furnish a two days' wonder to the world. He thought of building a city upon the highest Alps ; with greater wisdom he wished to cut a channel through the Corin- thian isthmus, and sent even to take the measurements needed for the work. The heathen poets have often sung of the envy and jealousy of heaven ; and the Emperor for a like cause could brook no rival. His young cousin Tiberius must die to expiate the crime of being once put upon a level with him; his father-in-law, Silanus, and his grandmother, Antonia, paid the forfeit of their lives for having formed too low an estimate of his majesty. Indeed, any eminence might be dangerous near him. Bald himself, he could not pass a Could bear no rival greatness. fine head of hair without the wish and sometimes too the order that it should be shaved quite bare. He prided himself upon his eloquence, and two men nearly suffered for the reputation of their style. The first was Seneca, then much in vogue, who was saved only by as in the case a friend's suggestion that he was too far gone of Seneca in a decHne to live. The other, Domitius Afer, was a brilliant orator and notable informer. In vain had he foreseen his danger and tried to disarm andDomi- jealousy by flattering words. He set up a tiusAfer. statue to the Emperor to note the fact that he was consul a second time at the age of twenty-seven; but this was taken ill, as a reflexion on the monarch's youth and unconstitutional procedure. Caius, who prided himself on his fine style, came one day to the Senate with a long speech ready-prepared against him. Afer was too wary to reply, but falling to the ground as if thunder- struck at eloquence so marvellous, only culled from memory the choicest passages of what he heard with comments on their beauties, saying that he feared the orator more than the master of the legions. The Em- peror, delighted at praises from so good a judge, looked on him henceforth with favour. His spleen was moved not only by living worth but even by the ^^^^^^^^^^ dorv of the dead. He threw down the even of the statues of the famous men that graced the Campus Martius. He thought of sweeping from the pub- lic libraries the works of Vergil and Livy, but contented himself with harshly criticising them. The titles even that called up the memory of illustrious deeds provoked his umbrage ; the old families must put aside the sur- names of the Republic, and the Pompeian race drop the dangerous epithet of * Great.' The gods, it seemed, were above moral laws, for the ;6 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 37-41. old fables told of their amours without disguise or Thought shame. Caius would be like Jupiter in this : raSd above in^lulge at once each roving fancy and moral laws, change his wives from day to day. Invited at one time to a noble Roman's marriage feast, he stopped the rite and himself claimed the bride, boasting that he acted like Augustus and the Romulus of old time. His lewdness spared no rank nor ties of blood, but of all he loved Caesonia best, who was famous only for her wantonness. He dressed her like an Amazon and made her ride to the reviews ; and when she bore a child he recognised it for his own by the ferocity with which the infant seemed to scratch and claw everything she saw. The oracles of old, from which men tried to learn the will of heaven, were couched often in dark mys- affected terious terms, and in this spirit he delighted tSrSni'^ ^° perplex and to alarm. He summoned the oracles, scnators from their beds at the dead of night, frightened them with strange sounds about them in the palace, then sung to them awhile and let them go. When the people clamoured for a legal tariff of the new tolls and dues, he had one written out, but in characters so small and so high-posted that no eyes could read it. His caprices often took a darker colour. He heard that A- A y A when he was once sick rash men had vowed and indulged in wild to give their lives or face the gladiators if caprices. j^^ ^^^^^ better, and with grim humour he obliged them to prove their loyalty, even to the death. We may see by the description of an eye-witness how great was the terror caused by these fitful moods of fero- city and folly. At Alexandria the Emperor's claims to deity had been regarded as impious by the Jews, but readily acquiesced in by the Greeks, who caught eagerly at any plea to persecute their hated rivals, and wreak the A.D. 37-'4i' Caligula. 77 grudge of a long-standing feud. The synagogues were profaned with statues, the Jewish homes were pillaged without mercy, and complaints of disloyalty forwarded to Rome The sufferers on their side sent an embassy to plead their cause, and at its head the learned Philo, who has left us an account to tell us how they fared. They were not received in state, iii the presence of grave coun- sellors, but after long delay the two deputations of the Alexandrians and Jews were allowed to wait upon the Emperor while he was looking at some country houses near the bay of Naples. The Jews came bowing to the ground before him, but despaired when they saw the look of sarcasm on his face, and were accosted with the words, ' So you are the impious wretches who will not have me for a god, but worship one whose name you dare not mention,' and to their horror he pronounced the awful name. Their enemies, overjoyed at this rebuff, showed their glee with words and looks of insult, and their spokes- man charged the Jews with wanton indifference to the Emperor's health and safety. ' Not so, Lord Cams,' they protested loudly, ^for thrice we have sacrificed whole hecatombs in thy behalf.' * Maybe,' was the reply, ' but ye sacrificed for me, and not to me.' This second speech completed their dismay, and left them all aghast with fear. But almost as he spoke, he scampered off, and went hurry- ing through the house, prying all about the rooms upstairs and down, cavilling at what he saw, and giving orders on his way, while the poor Jews had to follow m his train from place to place, amid the mockery and ribald jests of those about them. At length, after some direction given, he turned and said in the same breath to them, ' Why do you not eat pork ? ' They tried to answer calmly that national customs often varied: some people, for example would not touch the flesh of lambs. ' Quite right, too, he said, ' for it is poor tasteless stuff.' Then the insults 78 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 37-41. A.D. 37-41- Caligula. 79 and the gibes went on again. Presently he asked a ques- tion about their claims to civil status, but cut them short in the long answer which they gave him, and set off at a run into the central hall, to have some blinds of transpa- rent stone drawn up against the sun. He came back in a quieter mood, and asked what they had to say, but without waiting for the answer hurried off again to look at some paintings in a room close by. ' At last,' says Philo, ' God in his mercy to us softened his hard heart, and he let us go alive, saying as he sent us off, " After all, they are to be pitied more than blamed, poor fools, who cannot believe I am a god." * His devices to refill the treasury, which his extra- vagance had emptied, showed no lack of original re- source, though his plans were not quite after the rules His devices of financial science. He put up to auction exhausted ^^1 the heirlooms of the past that had been coffers. Stored in the imperial household, took an active part even in the sale, pointed out the rare old pieces with all the relish of a connoisseur, and gave the family pedigree of each. He made his courtiers push the prices up ; and when one of them was sleepy he took each mo- tion of the nodding head for a higher bid, and had a few gladiators knocked down to him at the cost of millions. WTien the news came of his daughter's birth he publicly bemoaned the costly burdens of paternity, and asked his loyal subjects for their doles to help him rear and portion the princess. He stood even at the entrance of his house on New Year's Day to receive with his own hands the pre- sents showered on him by the crowd as they came to court. Oftentimes he did not stay to devise such far-fetched Resorted to measures, but simply marked down wealthy confiscation, j^gn for Confiscation, betook himself as far as Gaul in quest of plunder, and filled his coffers at the ex- pense of the provincials. Even without such poor excuse he showed meantime a cruelty that seemed like the mere wantonness of a distempered fancy, as when he invited men to see him open a new bridge in state, and Morbid had the machinery contrived to fling crowds ferocity. into the water; or when he laughed as he sat between the consuls and told them that a single word from him would make their heads roll off their necks ; or when, to give his guests more zest for what they ate, he had the executioner ushered in to do his work before their eyes. One fiercer taste he seemed to lack— the love of war. But, suddenly reminded that recruits were wanted to make up the ranks of his Batavian body-guard, he r . . „ 1 he cam- took a fancy to a campaign m (^ermany, per- paign in haps in memory of his father's name. Pre- Germany, parations were made on a grand scale, and he started for the seat of war, hurrying sometimes in such hot haste that his guards could scarcely keep beside him, and then again, lolling in lordly ease, called out the people from the country towns to sweep and water all the roads. As soon as he had reached the camp he made a great parade of the discipline of earlier days, degraded general officers who were late" in coming with their troops, and dismissed centurions from the service on trifling grounds or none at all. Little came of all this show. A princely refugee from Britain asked for shelter. The Rhine was crossed, a parody of a night attack was acted out, and imposing letters were written to the Senate to describe the submis- sion of the Britons and the terror of the Germans. Then he hurried with his legions to the ocean, with all the pomp and circumstance of war, while none could guess the meaning of the march. At last when they could go no further he bade his soldiers pick up the Ludicrous shells that lay upon the shore and carry home <^^°^^- their trophies as if to show in strange burlesque the vanity of schemes of conquest. Before he left the camp, 8o The Earlier Empire. a.d. 37-41. A,D. 41-54- Claudius, 81 however, the wild fancy seized him to avenge the insult offered to his majesty in childhood, and he resolved to decimate the legions that had mutinied long years before. He had them even drawn up in close order and unarmed before him, but they suspected danger and confronted him so boldly that he feared to give the word and slunk away to Rome. On his return he seemed ashamed to celebrate the triumph for which he had made costly pre- parations, forbade the Senate to vote him any honours, but complained of them bitterly when they obeyed. Still his morbid fancy could not rest, and wild projects flitted through his brain. He would degrade Rome from „. ... her place among the cities and make Alex- jiis wild , . dreams of andria, or even his birthplace, Antium, the massacre. capital of the world. But first he medita- ted a crowning exploit to usher in the change with fit- ting pomp. It was nothing less than the massacre of all the citizens of mark. He kept two note-books, which he called his ' sword ' and ^ dagger,' and in them were the. names of all the senators and knights whom he doomed to death. But the cup was full already, and his time was come, though he had only had three years of power to abuse. He had often outraged with mocking and foul words the patience of Cassius Choerea, a tribune of the guard. At last Choerea could bear no more, and after sounding other officers of rank, who had been suspected of conspiracy already, and who knew their lives to be in danger, he resolved to strike at once. They took the Emperor unawares in a narrow passage at the theatre, thrust him through and through with hasty blows, and left him pierced with thirty wounds upon the floor. CHAPTER \W. CLAUDIUS. — A.D. 41-54- Few credited at first the tidings of the death of Caius ; many thought the story was only spread by him in some mad freak to test their feelings, and so they ^he hesita- feared to show either joy or grief. When at gon^of the^^ last they found that it was true, and that Cae- the murder sonia and his child were also murdered, they "" ^^'"^ noted in their gossip that all the Caesars who bore the name of Caius had died a violent death, and then they waited quietly to see what the Senate and the soldiers thought of doing. The Senate met at once in the Capitol, where the consuls summoned to their guard the cohorts of the watch. There, with the memorials of the past, the tokens of ancient freedom, round them, they could take counsel with becoming calmness and dignity. The Emperor was dead, and there seemed no claimant with a title to the throne. Should they venture to elect a sovereign, regardless of the warnings of the past, or should they set up a commonwealth once more, and breathe fresh life into the shadowy forms about them ? The discussion lasted all that day, and the lasted till night passed without a final vote. But it was nightfall. all idle talk, for the praetorians meanwhile had made their choice. The tidings of the Emperor's death soon reached the camp, and drew the soldiers to the city. Too late to defend or even to avenge their sovereign, they dispersed in quest of booty, and roamed But the sol- through the palace at their will. One of the ^^^^T plunderers passing by the alcove of a room found ^ - T-1J i_i-'j4-T,«, Claudius, espied the feet of some one hidden behind the half-closed curtains. Curious to see who it might be, he A.H, G n Ni. 82 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 4i-54- dragged him out, and recognised the face of Claudius, the late Emperor's uncle. He showed him to his com- rades who were near, and, possibly in jest, they saluted carried him ^^^"^ ^^ their new prince, raised him at once to the camp, upon their shoulders, and carried him in triumph to the camp. The citizens who saw him carried by marked his piteous look of terror, and thought the poor wretch was carried to his doom. The Senate heard that he was in the camp, but only sent to bid him take his place among them, and heard seemingly without concern that he was there detained by force. But the next day found them in different mood. The populace had been clamouring to have a monarch, the praetorians had sworn obedience to their new-found emperor, the him Em-^ city guards had slipped away, and the Senate, peror. divided and disheartened, had no course left them but submission. Tiberius Claudius Nero Germanicus, the son of Drusus, grandson of Livia Augusta, suffered in early years from lingering diseases which left him weak both in body and in mind. The Romans commonly had little tenderness for sickly children. Antonia and his mother even spoke of him as a monster, as a thing which nature had roughhewn but never finished ; while his grandmother would not deign to speak to him except by messenger or letter. Though brought up in the palace he was little cared for, was left to the tender mercies of a muleteer, of whose rough usage he spoke bitterly in after- life, and even when he came to manhood was not al- lowed to show himself in public hfe or hope for any of the offices of state. We may still read the letters written by Augustus to his wife, in which he speaks of him as too imbecile for any public functions, too awkward and ungainly to take a prominent place even in the circus at In early life he had been weak in mind and body, and had been despised or neglected. A.D. 41-54- Claudius. 83 and Caius, the show. The only honour which he gave him was a place in the priesthood of the augurs, and at his death he left him a verv paltry legacy. Nor did Tibe- He had sorry rius think more highly of him. He gave him ^^^^^^""^ only the poor grace of consular ornaments ; Tiberius and when he asked to have the consulship itself his uncle took no further notice than to send him a few gold pieces to buy good cheer with in the holidays. His nephew Caius made him consul, but encour- aged the rough jests with which his courtiers bantered him. If he came late among the guests at dinner they shifted their seats and shouldered him away till he was tired of looking for an empty place ; if he fell asleep, as was his wont, they plastered up his mouth with olives, or put shoes upon his hands, that he might rub his eyes with them when he woke. He was sent by the Senate into Germany to congratulate the Emperor on his supposed successes ; but Caius took it ill, and thought the choice of him was such a slight that he had the deputation flung into the river. Ever after he was the very last to be asked in the Senate for his vote, and when he was allowed to be one of the new priests the office was saddled with such heavy fees that his household goods had to be put up to auction to defray them. After such treatment from his kinsmen it was no wonder that he sunk into coarse and vulgar ways, in- dulged his natural liking for low company, ate largely and drank hardly, and turned to dice for his amusement. Yet he had also tastes of a much higher order, kept Greeks of literary culture round him, studied hard and with real interest, and at the advice of the historian Livy took to writing history himself. His first choice of subject was am- bitious, for he tried to deal with the troubled times that followed Julius Caesar's death ; but he was soon and indulged in coarse habits ; but he had also literary tastes, and took to writing history. G 2 84 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 41 -54- A.D. 41-54- Claudius, 85 warned to leave so dangerous a theme. He wrote also largely on the history of Etruria and Carthage, and later authors often used the materials collected by or for him. Of the latter of the two works we read that a courtly club was formed at Alexandria to read it regularly through aloud from year to year. Such was the man who in his fiftieth year was raised to the Empire by a soldier's freak, to rule in name but to ^ ^ be in fact the puppet of his wives and freed- As Emperor r rr he was ruled men. Thcse were the real governors of the and freed-^^ world, and their intrigues and rivalries and ™^"- lust and greed have left their hateful stamp upon his reign. The freedmen had for a long time played an important part in the domestic life of Rome ; for the household slaves that were so numerous at this time in every family The domes- °^ ample means could look commonly for tic position freedom after some years of faithful service, men^o/''*^^' though their old master still had legal claims Rome, \x^ov\. them, and custom and old associations bound them to their patron and his children. They haunted the houses of the wealthy, filled all the offices of trust, and ministered to their business and pleasures. Among them there were many men of refinement and high culture, natives of Greece and Asia, at least as well educated as their masters, and useful to them in a hun- dred ways as stewards, secretaries, physicians, poets, con- fidants and friends. The Emperor's household was or- ganised like that of any noble. Here, too, there were slaves for menial work, and freedmen for the fmperiai*^ posts of trust. The imperial position was too household. j^^^^ ^^^ ill-defined, the temper of the people too republican as yet for men of high social rank and dignity to be in personal attendance in the palace ; offices like those of high steward, chamberlain, great seal, and treasurer to the monarch had the stigma of slavery still branded on them, and were not such as noblemen could covet. But these were already posts of high importance, and much of the business of state was already in the freedmen's hands. For by the side of the Senate and the old curule officers of the Republic, the Empire had set up, both in the city and the provinces, a new system of ad- ministrative machinery, of which the Emperor was the centre and mainspring. To issue instructions, check ac- counts, receive reports, and keep the needful registers became a daily increasing labour, and many skilful ser- vants soon were needed to be in constant at- tendance in the palace. The funeral inscrip- offices filled tions of the time show that the official titles ^^ ^^^"^• in the imperial household were becoming rapidly more numerous as the functions were more and more subdi- vided. When the ruler was strong and self-contained, his servants took their proper places as valets-de-chambre, ushers, and clerks, while a privileged few were confiden- tial agents and advisers. When he was inexperienced or weak, they took the reins out of his hands, and sham.efuUy abused their power. Much too low in rank to have a political career before them, they were not weighted with the responsibilities of power, and could not act like the cabinet ministers of modern Europe. The theory of the constitution quite ignored them, and they were only crea- tures of the Emperor, who was not the fountain of honour, like later kings, and could not make them noble if he would. As high ambitions were denied them, and they could not openly assert their talents, they fell back commonly on lower aims and meaner arts. They lied . and intrigued and flattered to push their way ambition and to higher place ; they used their power to s"^^^^* gratify a greedy avarice or sensual lust. Wealth was their I S6 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 41-54. A.D. 41-54- Claudius. 87 ' first and chief desire, and, their master's confidence once gained, riches flowed in upon them from all sides. To get easy access to the sovereign's ear was a privilege which all were glad to buy. The suitors who came to ask a favour, a post of profit or of honour ; the litigants who feared for the goodness of their cause and wished to have a friend at court ; vassal princes eager to stand well in the Emperor's graces ; town councillors longing for some special boon or for relief from costly burdens ; provincials of and nume- . rousoppor- every class and country ready to buy at any tumties ^Qg^ ^j^g substantial gift of Roman franchise. Hundreds such as these all sought the favourite in the antechamber, and schemed and trafficked for his help. There was no time to be lost, indeed, for a monarch's favour is an unstable thing, and shrewd adventurers like themselves were ever plotting to displace them. At any moment they might be disgraced, so they grasped every of gaining chancc that brought them gain and speedily wealth. amassed colossal fortunes. Men told a story at the time with glee that when Claudius complained of scanty means a bystander remarked that he would soon be rich enough if two of his favourite freedmen would admit him into partnership. Now for the first time the personal attendants take a prominent place in public thought, and history is forced to note their names and chronicle their doings, and the story of their influence passes from the scanda- lous gossip of the palace to the pages of the gravest writers. In the days of his obscurity they had shared the meaner fortunes of their master, enHvened his dul- ness by their wit, and catered for his literary tastes. They had provided theories of style and learning and research, though they could not give him sense to use them, and now they were doubdess eager to help their patron to make history, not to write it. Greedily they followed him to the palace, and swooped upon the Empire as their prey. Pallas. Two of his old companions towered above all the rest, Pallas and Narcissus. The former had been with Claudius from childhood, and filled the place of keeper of the privy purse, or steward of the imperial accounts. In such a post, with such a master, it was easy for him to enrich himself, and he did not neglect his opportunities. But his pride was even more notable than his wealth. He would not deign to speak even to his slaves, but gave them his commands by gestures, or if that was not enough by written orders. His arrogance did not even spare the nobles and the Senate, but they well deserved such treatment by their servile meanness. The younger Pliny tells us some years afterwards how it moved his spleen to find in the official documents that the Senate had passed a vote of thanks to Pallas and a large money grant, and that he had declined the gift and said he would be content with modest poverty, if only he could be still of dutiful service to his lord. A modest poverty of many millions ! Narcissus was the Emperor's secretary, and as such familiar alike with state secrets and with his master's per- sonal concerns. He was always at his side, to jog his memory and guide his judgment; in the Senate, at the law courts, in cabinet council, at the festive board, nothing could be done without his know- ledge ; in most events of moment his influence may be traced. Men chafed, no doubt, at the presumption of the upstart, and told wnth malicious glee of the retort made by the freedman of the conspirator Camillus, who, when ex- amined in the council-chamber by Narcissus and asked what he would have done himself if his master had risen to the throne, answered, ^ I should have known my place, and held my tongue behind his chair.' They heard with pleasure too that when he went on a mission to the muti- nous soldiery in Britain, and tried to harangue them from their general's tribune, they would not even listen to him Narcissus. 88 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 41-54. but drowned his voice with the songs of the Saturnalia, the festive time at Rome, when the slaves kept holiday and took their masters' places. But at Rome none dared to be so bold, though his influence at court stirred the jealousy of many, who whispered to each other that it was no wonder he grew rich so fast when he made so much by peculation out of the great works which he prompted Claudius to undertake, and one of which at least, the outlet for the Lucrine Lake, caused almost a public scandal by its failure. After them came Polybius, whose literary skill had often served his patron in good stead and gave him con- stant access to his ear. No sinister motives ^ '"^* can be traced to him ; at worst we hear that he was vain, and thought himself on a level with the best, and liked to take the air with a consul at each side. He had cool impudence enough, we read; for in the theatre, when the people pointed at him as they heard a line about a ' beggar on horseback ' who was hard to brook, he quoted at once another line from the same poet of the ' kings that had risen from a low estate.' Callistus lent to the new comers in the palace his long experience of the habits of a court. He had served under the last ruler, could suit his ways to please a new master so unlike the old, and soon took a high place among the ruling clique by his tact and knowledge of the world of Rome. Felix, too, whom we read of in the story of St. Paul, gained, possibly through his brother Pallas, the post of governor of Judea, but must have had rare qua- lities to marry, as Suetonius tells us, three queens in suc- cession. Posides was the soldier of the party. Hismilitary powers, shown in the sixteen days* campaign of Claudius in Britain, raised him above other generals in his master's eyes, like his stately buildings Callistus. Felix. Posides. A.D. 41-54- Claudius. 89 which Juvenal mentions as outtopping the Capitol. There is no need to carry on the list. These are only the most favoured of the party, the best endowed with natural gifts, the most trusted confidants of Csesar. The first care of the new government was to reassure the public mind. Choerea and his accom- ^^ ^^^ plices must die, indeed ; for the murder of an f^^^^^^"^^^,^^ Emperor was a fatal thing to overlook, and the public they were said to have threatened the life of "''"^' Claudius himself. For all besides there was a general amnesty. Marked deference was shown by the new ruler to the Senate, and the bold words latterly ^^^ to con- spoken by its members were unnoticed. Few ciiiate ail honours were accepted in his own name, while the statues of Caius were withdrawn from public places, his acts expunged from all official registers, and his claims to divine honours ignored, as those of Tibe- rius had been before. The people were kept in good humour by the public shows and merrymakings, as the soldiers had been by the promise of fifteen hundred ses- terces a man ; and so the new reign began amid signs of general contentment. The next care of the little clique was to keep their master in good humour, to flatter his vanities and gratify his tastes, while they played upon his (^i^^^j hus weakness and governed in his name. This {j^^^jJ^Fb"'^ they did for years with rare success, thanks to his freed- their intimate knowledge of his character and ""^^ ' to the harmony that prevailed among themselves. He had all the coarse Roman's love for public games, was never weary of seeing gladiators fight ; so they amused with helped him to indulge his tastes and make spectacles merry with the populace of Rome. As the common round of spectacles was not enough, new shows must be lavishly provided. From the early morning till the entertainment 90 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 41-54. closed he was always in his seat, eager to see the cages of the wild beasts opened and to lose nothing of the bloody- sport. The spectators could always see him, with his wagging head and the broad grin upon his slobbering mouth, could hear him often crack his poor jokes on what went on, sometimes noted with amusement how he hurried with his staggering legs across the arena to coax or force the reluctant gladiators to resume their deadly work. They noted also that he had the statue of Augustus first veiled and then removed from the scene of bloodshed, as if the cruel sport that amused the living must offend the saintly dead. He was fond also of good cheer, so fond of it that he sometimes lost sight of his dignity. One day as and good ^^ sat upon the judgment-seat he smelt the cheer. savour of a burnt offering in a temple close at hand, and breaking up the court in haste, he hurried to take his seat at dinner with the priests. At another time, in the Senate, when the discussion turned on licensing the public-houses, he gravely spoke about the merits of the different wine-shops where he had been treated in old days. So feasting was the order of the day ; great ban- quets followed one upon the other, and hundreds of guests were bidden to his table, at which few ate or drank so freely or so coarsely as himself But he had more royal tastes than these, for he aspired to be a sort of Solomon upon the seat of justice. As His love for "^^gistrate or as assessor by the curule chair, judicial or in the Senate, when grave cases were de- bated, he would sit for hours listening to the pleaders or examining the witnesses, sometimes showing equity and insight, sometimes so frivolous and childish in his comments, that htigants and lawyers lost their patience altogether. As the father of the people, it seemed one of his A.D. 41-54- Claudius. 91 first cares to find his children bread, and no little time and thought were spent by him or by his agents in ^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ seeing that the granaries were filled and the provisioning markets well supplied. Yet the poor were not always grateful, for once when prices rose they crowded in upon him in the Forum and pelted him with hard words and crusts of bread, till he was glad to slink not always out by a back door to his palace. For his was ty^'^^e'^'^ certainly the familiarity that breeds contempt ; people. his presence, speech, and character were too ungainly and undignified to impose respect ; and even in his pro- clamations his advisers let him air his folly to the world. Sometimes he spoke in them about Wantofdig- his personal foibles ; confessed that he had a pJoeiama-^ hasty temper, but that it soon passed away ; "ons. and said that in years gone by he had acted like a simple- ton to disarm the jealousy of Caius, Then again he put out pubUc edicts as full of household cures and recipes as the talk of any village gossip. He had little taste for military exploits ; yet once it was thought prudent to excite his martial ardour, that he might have the pleasure of a real triumph, a campaign like the commanders of old days. At the ^^J^'ed for crisis of a campaign in Britain, when the him- preparations had been made for victory, the general sent to summon Claudius to the seat of war. All had been done to make the journey pleasant, the carriage even had been specially arranged to make it easy for him to while away the time by the games of dice which he loved so well; and though the waves and winds were not so complaisant or so regardful of his comforts, he reached at last the distant island, in time to receive the submission of the native princes and to be hailed as Emperor on the battlefield. Meanwhile the freedmen reaped their golden harvest ; 92 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 41-54. having early agreed upon a common course of action, Scandalous ^^^^ divided the spoil without dispute. They traffic of the trafficked in the offices of state, bestowed freedmen, commissions in the army, sold the verdicts of the law courts, and put up the Emperor's favour to the highest bidder. One privilege, which millions craved, the . . citizenship of Rome, was above all a source especially in . . the grant of 01 mcome to the favoured freedmen, who citizens ip, could get their master's signature to any deed. He has, indeed, in history the credit of a liberal which may poHcy of incorporation, and speeches are put hU?ibemSy ^"^° ^'^ mouth in which he argues from the in that re- best precedents of earlier days in favour of ^^^^'* opening the doors to alien races. It may be that his study of the past had taught him something ; but it is likely that the interest of his ministers did more to further a course which in their hands was so lucrative a form of jobbery. It was a common jest to say that the market was so overstocked at last that the franchise went for a mere song. But these, after all, were petty gains, and they needed a more royal road to wealth. They found it in a new kind They confis- ^^ proscription. They marked out for death SrtyofKe' ^"^ confiscation those who had houses or rich by work- gardens which they coveted, made out the ing on their • , ^ , , ' , , . master's Tich men to be malcontents, and the city to fears, ^g f^jj ^f traitors. It was easy to work upon the Emperor's fears, for he had always been an abject craven, and was always fancying hidden daggers. A tellmg story, a mysterious warning, or a dream invented for the purpose, almost anything could throw him off his balance and make him give the fatal order. Nor did they always wait for that. One day a centurion came to give in his report. He had, in pursuance of his orders, killed a man of consular rank. Claudius had never A.D. 41-54- Claudius. 93 His wives. known of it before, but approved the act when he heard the soldiers praised for being so ready to avenge their lord. When the list was made out in later times, it was believed that thirty-five members of the Senate and some three hundred knights fell as victims to the caprice or greed of the clique that governed in the name of Claudius, many of them without any forms of justice, or at best with the hurried mockery of a trial in the palace. So fatal to a people may be the weakness of its rulers. It was noticed as a scandalous proof of his ^^^ ^^^^ recklessness in bloodshed that he soon for- forgot that 1 i_ J 1 "^ had given got even what had passed, and bade the the fatal very men to supper whose death-warrant °''^^''' he had signed, and wondered why they were so late in coming. The guilt of these atrocities must be shared also by his wives. Of these Claudius married several in succession, but two especially stand out in history for the horror of all times. Messalina's name has passed into a byword for un- bounded wantonness without disguise or shame. Her fatal influence ruined or degraded all she touched. The pictures painted of her in old writers give no redeeming features in her character, no single unselfish aim or mental grace, nothing but sensual appetites in a form of clay. Her beauty gained her an easy command over her husband's heart, but not content with that her wanton fancy ranged through ,^ 1 1 T r • Her un- every social order and shrank from no im- bounded pure advances. Some whom she tempted wantonness. had repelled her in their virtue or disgust, but her shghted love soon turned to hatred, and on one false plea or other she took the forfeit of their Uves. For she had no scruples or compunction, no shrinking from the sight of blood; and pity, if she ever felt it, was with her only Messalina. 94 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 41-54. and cruelty. a mere passing thrill, a counter-irritant to other feelings of the flesh. The Roman Jezebel coveted, we read, the splendid gardens of Lucullus, and to get them had a lying charge of treason brought against Valerius Asiaticus, their owner. His defence was so pathetic as to move all those who heard him in the Emperor's chamber, and to make even Messalina weep. But as she hurried out to dry her tears she whispered to her agent, who stood beside, that for all this the accused must not escape. For a long time she was wise enough to court or At last she humour the confederates of the palace, and defied the so far her course of crime was easy. At "^ ^ *" " last she threw off such restraints of prudence? turned upon Polybius, who had taken her favours in too by killing serious a mood, and rid herself for ever of Polybius, his ill-timed jealousy. The other freedmen took his fate as a warning of defiance to them all, looked for a struggle of life and death, and watched their oppor- tunity to strike. The chance soon came, for Messalina cast and causes ^^^' l^stful cycs on a youug noble, and did not public scruple to parade her insolent contempt for marT>dng^ Claudius byforcing Silius to a public marriage. Sihus. Yx. was the talk of the whole town, but the Emperor was the last to know it. Then Narcissus saw the time was come, and, though the rest wavered, he was firm. In concert with his confidants he opened the hus- .^^ . band's eyes, and worked skilfully upon his tells ciau- fears with dark warnings about plots and dius, revolution ; prevented any intercourse be- tween them, lest her wiles and beauty might prove and procures ^^^^^ ^° ^^^ scheme, and at last boldly her death. ordered her death, while Claudius gave no sign and asked no question. She died in the gardens of Lucullus, purchased so lately by the murder of their owner. A.D. 41-54- Claudius, 95 The Emperor soon after made a speech to his guards upon the subject, bemoaned his sorry luck in marriage, and told them they might use their swords upon him if he ever took another wife. But his freedmen knew him better, and were already in debate among the upon the choice of a new wife. Callistus, [o^thrchoke Pallas, and Narcissus each had his separate of a new scheme in view, and the rival claims broke up the old harmony between them. The choice of Pallas fell on Agrippina, the daughter of Agrippina, Germanicus and niece of Claudius. Mar- his niece, carries oflF ried at the age of twelve to Cn. Domitius the prize, Ahenobarbus, a man of singular ferocity of temper, she had brought him a son who was to be one day famous. She had been foully treated by Caligula, her brother, and banished to an island till his death. Recalled by Claudius, she learnt prudence from the fate of the two Juliae, sister and cousin, who fell victims to the jealousy of Messalina. She shunned all dangerous rivalry at court, and was content to exchange her widowhood for the quiet country life of a new husband, one of the richest men in Rome, who, dying shortly after, left Domitius his heir, and gave her back her freedom when the time was come for her to use it. Her first care was to gain a powerful ally at court. She found one soon in Pallas, who was as proud and ambitious as herself, and she stooped to be the mistress of a minion while aspiring to be an Emperor's wife. When Pallas pleaded for her in the council-chamber, where the merits of the different claimants were long and anxiously discussed, she did not spare to use her feminine wiles upon the weak old man. By right of kinship she had a ready access to the palace, and could lavish her caresses and her blandish- ments upon him. The fort besieged so hotly fell at once, and she was soon his wife in all but name. For awhile he seemed to waver at the thought of shocking public senti- 96 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 4i-54« ment by a marriage with his niece ; but those scruples were soon swept aside by the courtly entreaties of the Senate and the clamour of a hired mob. Agrippina showed at once that she meant to be regent who showed ^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^"^' ^^^ grasped with a firm at once her hand the reins of power, still relied upon the ruie"su-" ° veteran statecraft and experience of Pallas, preme, ^^^ maintaining with him the old intrigue, broke up the league of the confederates. The feminine swe t aside Hvals whose influence she feared were swept her rivals, aside by banishment or death. Lollia above all had crossed her path, and seemed likely to carry off especially the prize. She did not rest till the order LoUia; ^y^g given for her death and a centurion despatched to bring her head. Then— so runs the horrid story — to make sure that the ghastly face was really that of the beautiful woman she had feared and hated, she pushed up the pallid lips to feel the teeth, whose form she knew. Then she felt that she was safe, and received the title of Augusta from the Senate. She had the doings of her court reported in the official journals of the day, and gave the law to all the social world of Rome. Two children of Claudius, by Messalina, Britannicus and Octavia, stood in the path of her ambition. betrothedTto Of these the latter was at once betrothed her son, ^q j^gj. young son, who was pushed forward rapidly in the career of honours, ennobled even with proconsular authority, and styled ' Prince of the Youth ' even in his seventeenth year. Meantime the star of the young Britannicus was paling, and nrien noted with and the suspicion that all the trusted guards and trusted ser- servants of the boy were one by one re- BrUan^nicus moved and their places filled with strangers, removed Qf the frecdmcn of the palace Narcissus 1 only had not bowed before her ; with gloomy look and ; ill-concealed suspense he still watched over his patron A.D. 41-54- Claudius, 97 and his children. His strength of character and long experience gave him a hold over his master that was still unshaken, and Agrippina did not dare to attack him face to face. But his enmity was not to be des- pised. He had sealed the doom of one wife — he might yet destroy another. There was something to alarm her also in the mood of Claudius, ■^/''^^ °^ weak dotard as he was, for strange words andofdeiay, fell from him in his drunken fits, coupled with maudlin tenderness for his own children and sus- picious looks at Nero. There seemed no time, therefore, to be lost, and she decided to act promptly. She seized the opportunity when Narcissus was sent away awhile to take the waters for the gout ; Claudius and while his watchful eye was off her, she poi^o^^d. called to her aid the skill of the poisoner Locusta, and gave Claudius the fatal dose in the savoury dish he loved. Scarcely was he dead when Seneca wrote for the amusement of the Roman circles a withering satire on the solemn act by which he was raised to xhe satire of the rank of the immortals. In a medley of Seneca on . •'the deifica- homely prose and lofty verse he pictures the tion of Clau- scene above at the moment of the Emperor's ^^^^' death. Mercury had taken pity on his lingering agony, and begged Clotho, one of the three Fates, to cut short his span of life. She tells him that she was only waiting till he had made an end of giving the full franchise to the world. Already by his grace Greeks and Gauls, Spaniards and Britons wore the toga, and only a few remnants were still left uncared for. But at length she lets loose the struggling soul. Then the The scene scene shifts to heaven. Jupiter is told that dhS^arrives a stranger had just come hobbling in, a bald i" heaven, old man, who wagged his head so much and spoke so thick that no one could make out his meaning, for it A,H. H 98 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 4i-54- did not sound like Greek or Roman or any sort of civilized speech. Hercules, as being used to monsters, is deputed to ask him whence he comes, and he does this as a Greek in words of Homer. Claudius, glad to find scholars up in heaven who may perhaps think well of his own works of history, caps the quo- tation with another about a journey made from Troy, and might have imposed on the simple-minded god, if the goddess Fever had not come up at the moment from the Roman shrine where she was worshipped, and said that he was only born at Lugdunum, in the country of the old Gauls, who, like himself, had taken the capital by stonn. Claudius, in his anger, made the usual gesture by which he ordered men's heads off their shoulders, but no one minded him any more than if they had been his own proud freedmen ; so, remembering that he could not strut and crow any more on his own dunghill, he begs Hercules to befriend him and to plead his cause in the council-chamber of the gods. This he does with some effect, and when the debate opens most of the speakers seem to let Claudius come in. But at length Augustus rises, and with energy denounces his successor, who had shed so much noble blood like water, and murdered so many of the family of the Caesars without a trial or His speech and vote decide the question, and Claudius is dragged away to Hades with a noose about his throat like the victims of his cruelty. As he passes on his way through Rome his funeral dirge is being sung, and he hears the and passing snatches of it which mentioned in his praise through that no one ever was so speedy on the seat Rome, hears r-j ^ ijj-j -i/- ihe dirges on of judgment, or could decide so easily after himselL hearing one side only, or sometimes neither; and that pleaders and gamblers would keenly feel the The debate as to his admission inclined turns against him after the protest of Augustus. a hearing. He is dragged away to Hades ; A.D. 54-68. Nero. 99 loss of a monarch who had loved so much the law court and the dice-box. The spirits in Hades raise a shout of triumph when they hear that he is near, and all whom he had sent before him throng about him as he enters. There they stand, the intimates, the kinsmen ^^ ,11, 1"6 spirits he had doomed to death, the senators, the of his victims knights, and less honoured names as count- jHumpfT less as the sand on the seashore, and silently '"^""^ ^^^> confront the fallen tyrant. But Claudius, seeing all the well-known faces, forgetting, as he often did in life, or even ignorant of the causes of their death, said, ' Why, here are all friends ! How ever came you hither?' Then they curse him to his face and drag him to the chair of ^acus, the judge, who condemns him unheard, to the surprise of all, save the criminal himself. After some thought a fitting penalty was found. Claudius was doomed to play for all eternity with a dice-box that had no bottom. and drag him before the judge, _ to receive his fitting doom. CHAPTER V. NERO. — A.D. 54-68 We read that when Domitius was told that he had a son, he said that any child of his by Agrippina must prove an odious and baneful creature. The mother The early asked her brother Caius, the Emperor, to give ^'^^ °^ ^^'■°- the child a name, but he pointed to Claudius, his laughing- stock, and said that the little one should bear his name, though the mother angrily protested at the omen. Soon afterwards he lost his parents' care by death and banish- ment, and was brought up at the house of his aunt, Lepida, entrusted to the charge of a dancing-master and H a lOO The Earlier Empire. a.d. 54-68. Brought for- ward by his mother, and adopted by- Claudius, a barber, till brighter times came back with the return of his mother from her place of exile. He rose with Agrippina's rise to power, and became the central object of her ambitious hopes ; for, the sister of one emperor and wife of another, she was determined to be the mother of a third. At the age of ten she had him made the adopted son of Claudius, when he took the name of Nero. The choice of Seneca to be his tutor met with the approval of men of worth and culture ; the ap- pointment of Burrhus to be the sole prasfect of the prae- torian guard secured the support of the armed force of Rome. His betrothal to Octavia strengthened his claims still further, and stirred the jealousy of the young Britannicus and the grave fears of the old servants like Narcissus. The issue showed how well-founded were those fears. As soon as the death of Claudius was made known, Nero, hurrying to the camp of his ad- visers, spoke the soldiers fairly, and making ample pro- he was mises of largess, was saluted Emperor by ac- Em^ror by clamation. The claims of Britannicus were the soldiers, set asidc, and no voice was raised even in the Senate in his favour. At first the strong will of Agrippina seemed to give the tone to the new government. Votes were passed in her honour by the Senate ; the watchword given to the His mother soldiers was, ' The best of mothers.' To satisfy ^Sd^STrst ^^^ resentment or to calm her fears Narcissus to govern, had to die. That she might take her part in all concerns of state the Senate was called to the palace to debate, where behind a curtain she could hear and not be seen. But the two chief advisers of the prince, though they owed their places to her favour, had no mind to be the tools of a bold bad woman, behind whom they could still see the form of the haughty minion Pallas. A.D. 54-68. Nero. JOI The praefect of the praetorians, Afranius Burrhus, who wielded the armed force of the new government, was a man of grave and almost austere character, but Burrhus, whose name had long stood high at Rome for Jj^^^r^^*^ soldierly discipline and honour. His merits guard, had given him a claim to his high rank, and he would not stoop to courtierlike compliance. He used his weighty influence for good, though he had at times to stand by and witness evil which he was powerless to check. L. Annaeus Seneca represented the moral force of the privy council, though he had the more yielding and com- pliant temper of the two. Sprung from a rich and Seneca, family of Corduba, in Spain, his wealth and J^torT^' good connexions and brilliant powers of Nero, rhetoric had made him popular in early life with the highest circles of the capital, till he gained to his cost the favour of the Emperor's sister. Banished by the influence of Messalina, he had turned to philosophy for comfort, and won high repute among the serious world of Rome by the earnestness and fervour of his letters. Few stood higher among the moral writers of the day, no one seemed fitter by experience and natural tastes to be director of the conscience of the young nobility. With rare harmony, though different methods, the two advisers used their influence to sway the ^^ ^ young Emperor's mind and to check the reins out of overweening pride of Agrippina. They took ^^ ^ ^* the reins of power from her hand and reassured the public mind, which had been unnerved by the despotic venal government of late years, with its tyrant menials and closet trials. They restored to the Senate ^^d ruled in some portion of its old authority and chose ^".sname , , ,. . 1 r^ n with dignity the public servants wisely. For five years andpru- the world was ruled with dignity and order, ^^^^^> for the young Emperor reigned in name, but did not I02 The Earlier Efnfire. a.d. 54-68. govern, and the acts that passed for his were grave and prudent, while the very words even were put into his mouth for state occasions. When the Senate sent a vote of thanks he bade them keep their gratitude till he de- served it ; and when he had to sign a death-warrant, he said that he wished he was not scholar enough to write his name. The pretty phrases were repeated ; men did not stay to ask if they were Seneca's or Nero's, but hoped that they might prove the keynote of the new reign. But the two ministers meantime had cause for grave mis- though they givings, for they had long studied their young fo^gravr charge with watchful eyes, and had seen with misgivings. regret how little they could do to mould his character as they could wish. Burrhus had failed to teach him in the camp any of the virtues of a soldier ; all the lessons of temperance, hardihood, and patience left no traces in his mind. Seneca had been warned, we read, by Agrippma that the quibbles of philosophy would be too mean for his young pupil. He had little taste him- self for the orators of the Republic, and did not care to point to them for lessons of manly dignity and freedom. But he did his best to teach him wisdom, spoke to him In spite of earnestly of duty, wrote for him moral trea- to^fornThis ^^^^s> ^"^^ of thought and epigram, on them.es tastes like clemency and anger, but could not drop the language of the court, and hinted in his very warn- ings that the prince was raised above the law — was almost a god to make and to destroy. Nero even from his youth had turned of choice to other teachers. He had little taste for the old Roman drill in arms and law and oratory, and was, it was noted, the first he showed a °^ ^^^ cmperors who had his speeches written passion for for him, from lack of readiness in public busi- ness. But he had a real passion for the arts of Greece, for music, poetry, and acting; had the first A.D. 54-68. Nero. 103 masters of the age to train him, studied with them far into the night, and soon began to pride himself upon the inspiration of the Muses. To gain time for such pursuits he was well content to leave the business of state to graver heads, and to take his part only in the pageant. He had other pleasures of a meaner stamp. Soon it was the talk of Rome that the young Emperor stole out in disguise at night, went to low and for low haunts or roved about the streets with noisy dissipation, roysterers like himself, broke into taverns and assaulted quiet citizens, and showed even in his mirth the signs of latent wantonness and cruelty. His boon companions were not slow to foster the pride and insolence of rank, to bid him use the power he had, and free himself without delay from petticoat rule and the leading-strings of greybeards. Their counsels fell on willing ears. He had long been weary of his mother. She had ruled him as a boy by fear rather than by love, and now she could not stoop willingly to a lower place. She wanted to be regent still, and hoped perhaps to see her son content to sing and act and court the Muses, while she governed in his name. But he had listened gladly to ministers who schooled him to curb her ambition and assert himself. He looked on calmly while they checked her control over the Senate, put aside her chief adviser, Pallas, annulled the despotic acts of the last reign, and took the affairs of state out of her hands. She was not the woman to submit without a struggle. There were stormy scenes sometimes between them, and then again she tried with a woman's blandish- ments to recover the ground that she had lost. She talked of the wrongs of the young Britannicus, and spoke of stirring the legions in his favour. As Nero's love for Octavia cooled she took to her home the injured wife His impa- tience of his mother's re- straint, en- couraged by his advisers. 104 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 54-68. and made public parade of sympathy and pity. When it was too late, she changed her course of action, condoned and offered even to disguise the amorous license on which she had frowned before so sternly, and tried in vain to win his love with a studied tenderness that would refuse him nothing. Nero's chief ministers had put him on his guard against her and roused his jealousy and fear. They had now to carried ^tand by and see the struggle take its course, was kngtS Ihey ^'^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ outcome with a growing horror, had not Britannicus, of whose name such imprudent reamt o . ^^^ ^^^ made, was stricken at dinner with a sudden fit and taken out to die, as all men thought, by Treatment of P^^^on. His poor sistcr hid her grief in silence, Britannicus but she was soon to be divorced. Aerinnina and Octavia. ^ •,/-„, & h'F «• was first stripped of all her guard of honour and forced to leave her house upon the Palatine; false informers were let loose upon her and wanton insolence The attempts encouraged. It was murmured that the dread Ag?rpp*ina Locusta was at work brewing her poisonous failed. drugs, and that three times they tried in vain to poison her. One day it was found that the canopy above her bed was so arranged that the ropes must soon give way, and the whole crush her as she lay in sleep. At length Nero could wait no longer, and he found a willing tool in Anicetus, the admiral of his fleet, and between them a dark plot was hatched. It was holiday-time, and Nero was taking the baths at Baias. Suddenly he wrote a letter to his mother full of sorrow at the past estrange- Thedark "^^"^ ^^id of hopes that they might live on drotThS- in ^^"^^ *^^"^^ ^^ ^^^ wo"^^ ^"^"^y come and see the Bay of him as of old. She came at once, and found ^P ^''" a hearty welcome ; was pressed to stay on one plea or another till at last night was come. Nero conducted her to a barge of state and left her with tender A.D. 54-68. Nero. los Its failure. words and fond embraces. She was not far upon her homeward way across the bay when, at a signal given, the deck fell crashing in and the barge rolled over on its side; and the crew, far from coming to the rescue, struck with their oars at Agrippina and her women as they struggled in the water. But she was quiet and kept afloat a while, till a boat picked her up and carried her to her home, to brood over the infamous design. At last she sent a messenger to tell her son that she was safe though wounded. Nero, baffled in his murderous hopes and haunted by fears of vengeance, was ; for a while irresolute. He even called into counsel Seneca and Burrhus, and told them of his plot and of its failure. They would have no hand in her death, though they had no hope, perhaps no wish to save her. While they talk Anicetus acts. He hastens with an officer foUowedby or two to Agrippina's house, makes his way her murder, through the startled crowd about the shore, ' ' ^" and finds her in her bedroom all alone. There, while she eyes them fiercely and bids them strike the womb that bore the monster, they shower their blows upon her and leave her lifeless body gashed with wounds. The ministers of Nero must share the infamy of this unnatural deed. They had already tarnished their good name by mean compliance. To save the ^ , , .... , . Burrhus and power that was slipping from their grasp Seneca, to they had closed their eyes to Nero's vices : g'j.acef de- they had tried even to cloak his youthful fended the passion for a freedwoman by a paltry subter- fuge .; they had held their peace when Britannicus was poisoned, and stooped even to share the bounties that were showered at the time upon the courtiers ; and now they sunk so low in good men's eyes as to defend the deed from the thought of which even Nero at first shrunk aghast. Burrhus, we read, sent officers of the io6 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 54-68. A.D. 54-68. Nero. 107 and public opinion con- doned it. praetorian guard to announce the soldiers' joy that their sovereign was safe for ever from his mother's plots. Seneca's hand drew up the dispatches to the Senate in which the murdered woman was charged with treasonable designs against the Emperor's life, and all the worst ' horrors of the days of Claudius were raked up to cover her memory with shame. The Senate, too, was worthy of its prince, and voted solemn thanksgivings for his safety, while Thrasea alone protested by his silence, and walked out of the house at last when he could brook their flattery no longer. Even distant cities found an excuse for mean servility. One deputation came to beg Nero in the name of the provincials to bear his heavy grief with patience. The Emperor came back to Rome to find the city decked out in festive guise to greet him like a con- Nero gave quering hero. So, rid at length of all fear of to^his^le^^ rivalry or moral restraints from his advisers, sures, he gave free vent to his desires. Music and song, the circus and the theatre had been the passion of his childhood ; they were now to be the chief object of his life. He shared the tastes of the populace of Rome, and catered for them with imperial grandeur. No cost or care was spared to make the spectacles imposing and worthy of the master of the world. The old national prejudice had looked on the actor's trade as drove free~ bom Romans almost infamous for freeborn Romans ; but on the stage, jsjero drove upon the stage citizens of rank, knights and senators of ancient lineage, and made them play and act and dance before the people. The his- torian Dion Cassius rises from his sober prose almost to eloquence when he describes the descendants of the conquered races pointing the finger at the sons of the great families from which their victors sprung ; the Greeks asking with surprise and scorn if that was indeed Mummius, the Spaniards marvelling to see a Scipio, the Macedonians an .^milius before them. At last, as if it were to cover their disgrace— or, as many thought, to share it— Nero appeared himself in public, ^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^ and sang and played and acted for the prize, appeared on and sought the plaudits of the crowd. He it himself, did not take it up as the mere pastime of an idle day, but practised and studied in real earnest, showed feverish jealousy of rival actors, and humbly bowed before the judges, as if the contest were a real one. No one might leave the theatre while he played ; Vespasian ^^^.^^ ^^ .^ was seen to nod, and sunk at once in his in real good graces. Five thousand sturdy youths ^^"^^' \ were trained to sit in companies among the audience and give the signal for applause. Not content with such display at Rome, he starred it even in the provinces. The Greeks were the great connoisseurs of all the fine arts ; in their towns were glorious prizes to be won, and Greece alone was worthy of his voice and talents. Greece was worthy also of her ruler ; nowhere was adulation more refined, nowhere did men flatter with more subtle tact the pride and vanity of the artist-prince. We cannot doubt that Nero had a genuine love of ^ art. It may seem as if he lived to justify the modem fancy that art has a sphere and canons of its ^^^^ ^^^ ^ own, and may be quite divorced from moral real love of laws. But indeed the art of Nero and his ^'' times was bad, and that because it was not moral. It set at naught the eternal laws of truth and simplicity, of temperance and order. In poetry and but the art music it was full of conceits and affecta- ^au^settwi* tions, straining after the fantastic. In plastic immoral. art size was thought of more than beauty of propor- tion, and men aimed at the vast and grandiose in enor- mous theatres and colossal statues. In place of the \ io8 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 54-68. delicate refinement of Greek taste its drama sought for coarse material effects ; it did not try by flight of fancy to stir the nobler feelings of the heart, but relied on sensuous pageantry and carnal horrors to goad and sate the morbid taste for what was coarse, ferocious, and obscene. Nero's life as Emperor was one long series of stage effects, of which the leading feature was a feverish ex- Nero's ex- travagance. His return from the art-tour in travagant Greece outdid all the triumphal processions ispay. q£ ^^ ^2JsX. Thousands of carriages were needed for his baggage; his sumpter mules were shod with silver ; and all the towns he passed upon his way received him through a breach made ii^ their walls, for such he heard was the * sign of honour ' with which their citizens were wont to welcome the Olympian victors of old days. The public works which he designed were more to feed his pride than sen^e the public. He wanted, like another Xerxes, to cut a canal through the Corinthian' isthmus ; thought of making vast lakes to be supplied from the hot springs of Baias, and schemed great works by which the sea might be brought almost to the walls of Rome. But it was only by his build- especially in ^"&s that he left enduring traces, and to building, this the great disaster of his times gave an unlooked-for impulse. Some little shops in the low to which the grounds near the Circus took fire by chance. Rome gave The flames spread fast through the narrow ^^us.*"" streets and crowded alleys of the quarter, j A.D. 64. and soon began to climb up the higher ground to the statelier houses of the wealthy. Al- most a week the fire was burning, and of the four- teen wards of the city only four escaped un- harmed. Nero was at Antium when the startling news arrived, and he reached Rome too late to save his A.D. 54-68. Nero. 109 palace. He threw his gardens open to the homeless 1 poor, lowered at once the price of com, and had booths ; raised in haste to shelter them. He did not lack sym- pathy for the masses of the city, whose tastes he shared and catered for. And yet the story spread that the horrors of the blazing city caught his excited The strange fancy, that he saw in it a scene worthy of an [^ hiTcoi? ? Emperor to act in, and sung the story of the duct, fall of Troy among the crashing ruins and the fury of the flames. Even wilder fancies spread among the people: men whispered that his servants had been and seen with lighted torches in their hands as suspicions. they were hurrying to and fro to spread the fire. For Nero had been heard to wish that the old Rome of crooked streets and crowded lanes might be now swept clean away, that he might rebuild it on a scale of royal grandeur. Certainly he claimed for himself the lion's share of the space that the flames had cleared. The palace to which the Palatine hill had given a name now took a wider range and spread to the Esqui- line, including in its vast circuit long lines of He had the porticoes, lakes, woods, and parks; while the '^^^l^ buildings were so lavishly adorned with every built forhim art as to deserve the name of the ' Golden spiendiT^ House' which the people's fancy gave to scale, them. In its vestibule stood the colossal figure of the Emperor, one hundred and twenty feet in height, which ^ afterwards gave its name to the Colosseum. From it stretched porticoes a mile in length, supported on triple ranges of marble pillars, leading to the lake, round which was built a mimic town, opening out into parks stocked with wild animals of every sort. The halls were lined with gold and precious stones; the banqueting- rooms were fitted with revolving roofs of ivory, per- forated to scatter flowers and perfumes on the guests- no The Earlier Empire. a.d. 54-68. A.D. 54-68. Nero. Ill while shifting tables seemed to vanish of themselves and reappear charged with richest viands. There were baths too to suit all tastes, some supplied from the waters of the sea, and some filled with sulphurous streams that had their sources miles away. Thousands of the choicest works of art of Greece and Asia had been destroyed, but their place was taken by and fur- ^^ paintings and the statues brought from nishedwith every quarter of the empire. Nero sent the art- . , , , . . ^ treasures of spccial agents to ransack the cities for art- Greece, treasures, and many a town among the isles of Greece mourned in after days the visit that had des- poiled it of some priceless treasure. When all was done and the Emperor surveyed the work, even he was satisfied, and he cried, * Now at least I feel that I am lodged as a man should be.' It was in halls like these that the privileged few gathered round their lord when he returned from the grave business of the circus and the stage to indulge in the pleasures of the table. Otho, the profligate dandy, who had been -^ ^ . complaisant enough to lend his wife to Nero; Its most pn- id J viiegedin- Tigcllinus, praefect of the guards, ready to ™^*^^' pander to his master's worst caprices; Vati- nius, the hunchback, who had left his cobbler's bench and pushed his fortunes in the palace by his scurrilous jests and reckless attacks on honest men; Sporus, the poor eunuch, and Pythagoras, the freedman, both de- graded by the mockery of marriage with the wanton prince — these and many another whose names have not been gibbeted in history left their memories of infamy in that * House of Gold.' The mood of the citizens meanwhile was dark and To turn sus- lowering as they brooded over their disasters, picion from j xt i i i ,- i . . himself, and Nero looked to find some victims to fill their thoughts or turn their suspicion from himself. The Christians were the scapegoats chosen. Confused in the popular fancy with the Jews, whose bigotry Nero made and turbulence had made them hated, looked ^^e Christ-^ X d Uo Alio VI V. upon askance by Roman rulers as members tims and his of secret clubs and possible conspirators, ^^^^P^soats, disliked probably by those who knew them best for their unsocial habits or their tirades against the fashions of the times, the Christians were sacrificed alike to poHcy and hatred. They deserved their fate, says Tacitus, not, in- deed, because they were guilty of the fire, but from their hatred of mankind. There was a refinement of cruelty in their doom. Some were covered with the skins of beasts, and fierce dogs were let loose to worry them. Others were tied to stakes and smeared with tar, and then at nightfall, one after another, they were set on ^i^h arefine- fire, that their burning bodies might light up mem of Nero's gardens, while the crowds made merry tomirmg" with good cheer, and the Emperor looked '^^'"• curiously on as at the play. No wonder that in the pages even of the heathen writers we hear something like a cry of horror, and that in the Christian literature we may trace the lurid colours of such scenes in the figures of Antichrist and in the visions of the coming judgment. But Nero did not often waste his thought and inge- nuity on such poor prey as the artizans and freedmen of the Christian Churches. His victims were commonly of higher rank, and the nearer to him the 3^^ j,is nearer they seemed to death. His aunt victims were .,,-,/ , , , , commonly followed his mother to the grave, and her of higher tender words to him as she lay upon her '^^"^' deathbed were rewarded by a message to His aunt, her doctor to be prompt and close her pains, his wife Octavia was soon divorced and killed, on a ^<^'^v*^» charge of faithlessness, which was so carelessly con- trived as to shock men by its very wantonness of power. 112 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 54-68. Burrhus, Poppaea, her successor, was dearly loved, and yet he killed her in a fit of passion with a hasty kick. He soon wearied of the grave face of Burrhus, who read in his coolness the omen of a speedy death. Before long he grew sick and felt that he was poisoned. He pointed to the blood that he spat up as the signs of princely gratitude, would not see Nero when he called to ask him how he felt, but said only, * Well,' and turned his face away and died. Seneca was longer spared, but he too felt that his time must come. He held himself aloof from court, tried to g give up all his wealth and honours, to live spared for a austerely, and by the lessons of philosophy to *'"^" make himself strong and self-contained, or to be director of the consciences of those who needed help and comfort. But with a prince like Nero even students were not safe, and philosophy itself was dangerous ground. The noblest minds at Rome were at this time mainly Stoics, and among the long line of Nero's victims there Philosophers were many who were in some sense martyrs on with'''^'^ to the Stoic creed. They were not republi- mistrust. cans, though they have jlometimes passed for such in later history. They were not disloyal, though they were looked at with disfavour. They were ready to serve the ruling powers either in the Senate or the camp; there was a largeness even in their social views as citizens of the world that would seem to fit them markedly for carrying out the levelling spirit of the imperial policy. Nevertheless they were regarded with jealousy and mis- trust; nor is the reason far to seek. Stoicism in passing from the schools of Greece had ceased to be an abstract theory, with interest only for the curious mind that loved the subtleties of paradox. It was a standard of duty for the Romans, and a creed to live and Stoicism, A.D. 54-68. Nero, 113 die for. The resolute spirit and the hard outlines of its doctrines had a fascination for the higher type of Roman mind. To live up to the ideal of a noble life, m which reason should rule and virtue be its own reward ; to care very much for a good conscience, for personal dignity and freedom, and to think slightingly of short-lived goods over which the will has no control — here was a rule that was not without a certain grandeur, however wanting it might be at times in tenderness and sympathy. But such high teaching was distasteful to the sensualist and tyrant ; its tone rebuked his follies and his vices. It set up a higher standard than the will of Caesar, distasteful to and was too marked a contrast to the servile '^^ pnnce, flattery of the times. It was not the spiritual Quixotism of a few, which might be safely disregarded, but men flocked to it on every side for lessons of comfort and of hardihood in evil days. Weak women turned to it to give them strength, as Arria, in the days of Claudius, had shown her husband how to die, when she but spread handed him the dagger that had pierced her [^fou'^Si with the words, ' See, Paetus, it does not hurt.' society. Some spread the doctrines with a sort of apostolic fervour, and may well have said at times uncourtly things of the vices in high places, like the Puritan preachers of our own land. Some, again, mistook bluntness of speech for love of truth, like Cornutus, who, when some one pressed Nero to write a work in some four hundred books, remarked that * no one then would read them; it was true Chrysip- pus wrote as many, but they were of some use to man- kind.' Others, influencing the world of fashion in quiet intercourse and friendly letters, showed the young how to live in times of danger ; or when the fatal message came stood by and calmed the pains of death, like the father-confessors of the Church. Of the great Stoics of that time there was no more A. H. I 1 14 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 54-68. commanding figure than that of Thrasea Paetus. He had The charac- none of the hard austerity of a Cato nor the tcr and fate one-sided vchemcnce of a social reformer ; he Patus.^'^^ was fond even of the play, and mixed gaily in the social circles of the city ; would not blame even vice severely, for fear of losing sight of charity to men. In the Senate he was discreet and calm, even when he disliked what was done ; tempered his blame with words of praise, spoke of Nero as an eminent prince, and voted commonly with his col- leagues, though he did not stoop to mean compliance. Sometimes, indeed, he protested by his silence, as when he rose and left the Senate-house rather than hear the apology of Nero for the murder of his mother, and when he declined to come and join the vote for the apotheosis of Popp^a. At last, when the evils seemed too strong for cure, he would take no part in public actions. For the last three years of his life he would not sit in his place among the senators, nor take the yearly vow of loyalty, nor offer prayer or sacrifice for Caesar. The rebuke of his silence was a marked one, for the world, watching his bearing, turned even to the official journals to see what Thrasea had not done, and to put their construction on his absence. The calm dignity of his demeanour seems to have awed even Nero for a while, but at last the Emperor wearied of his quiet protest. The fatal order found him in his garden, surrounded by a circle of his kinsmen and choice spirits, with whom he tranquilly conversed upon high themes. Like another Socrates he heard his doom with cheerfulness, and passed away without a bitter word. Seneca, too, found consolation but not safety in the Stoic doctrines. He had long retired from the active of Seneca world, and shunned the Emperor's jealous (A.D. 65), eye. He had sought in philosophy the les- sons of a lofty self-denial, and was spending the last A.D. 54-68 Nero. 115 years of his life in studying how to die. The rash con- spiracy of a few of his acquaintance, in which he took no part himself, was the excuse, though not the motive, for his murder. The sentence found him with his young wife and intimates, prepared for but not courting death. Denied the pleasure of leaving them by will the last tokens of affection, he told his friends that he could bequeath them only the pattern of an honest life, and gently reproved the weakness of their grief. His veins were opened; but he talked on still while life was slowly ebbing, and was calm through all the agony of lingering death. Corbulo, the greatest soldier of his day, whose cha- racter was cast in an antique mould, and was true to the traditions of the camp, had also to ex- ^^^ ^^ perience the ins^ratitude of princes. He had Corbulo. • • 1 XT 1 1 J (A-D- 67). led his troops to victory m the North, had baffled the Parthian force and guile, and saved a Roman army from disaster ; he had been so loyal to his Emperor in the face of strong temptation as to cause the Armenian Tiridates to say in irony to Nero that he was lucky in having such a docile slave. Suddenly he was recalled with flattering words. The death-warrant met him on his way, and he fell upon his sword, saying only, * I de- served it.' So unlooked for was the deed that men could only say that Nero was ashamed to meet his eye while busied in pursuits so unworthy of a monarch. A crowd of other victims pass before us on the scene. The least distinguished were driven forth from Rome to people lonely islands, while the chiefs proved other to the world that they had learned from the ^i'^"'"^' Stoic creed the secret how to live nobly and die grandly. Women too were not wanting in heroic •r re men courage. Paulina, the young wife of Seneca, among the tried to go with him to the grave. Others ""'"^^'■' were glad to save their self-respect by death. Of these 1 2 ii6 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 54-68. Lucan some fell as victims to the jealousy of Caesar ; their emi- nence, their virtues, and historic names made sufFered for , , • i o r j ^t. • different them dangerous rivals. Some found their reasons. wealth a fatal burden when the Emperor's wild extravagance had drained his coffers and fresh funds were needed for his lavish outlay. More frequently they died to expiate a moral protest, which was often silent, but not the less expressive. The absolute ruler was provoked by men who would not crouch or bend. He felt instinctively that they abhorred him, and fancied that he saw even in the look of Thrasea something of the sour pedagogue's frown. Their fate marked the crisis of the struggle between high thought and an ignoble acting. Lucan too at this time, by a less honourable death, closed a short life of poetic fame. He had risen to early eminence in the social circles of the capital, stood high in favour at the court, where the passion for the fine arts was in vogue, and, as the nephew of Seneca, he shared the studies and for a time the confidence of Nero. But the sunshine of princely favour was soon clouded; he was coldly wel- comed in the palace, and then forbidden to recite in public. What was the reason of the change disgrace at we cannot say with certainty. Perhaps he court, ^^g ^QQ hoX^ in the choice of his great sub- ject. The civil wars of the Republic had seemingly a fascination for the literary genius of this time, and many a pen was set to work and many a fancy fired by the story of the men who fought and died in the name of liberty or for the right to misgovern half the world. There was, of course, a danger in such themes. Julius Caesar had written an Anti-Cato, to attack a popular ideal, and later rulers might be tempted to meet his eulogists with the sword rather than the pen. Historians had already suffered for their ill-timed praises of the great repub- A.D. 54-68. Nero. 117 licans ; and Claudius had been warned not to meddle with so perilous a theme. Lucan, therefore, may well have given offence to the instinc- choice of tive jealousy of a despot, though he was not subject sparing of his flattering words, as when he bids him take a central place among the heavenly constellations, for fear of disturbing the equilibrium of the world ; and in the opening books, at least, which alone had seen the light, he was wary and cautious in his tone. Or it may be he offended Nero's canons of poetic style, for he cast aside the old tradition and boldly dispensed with the dreamland of fable and all the machinery of the marvellous and superhuman. He aspired to set history to heroic verse, but claimed no knowledge of the world unseen. Or, as it is more likely still, his fame gave umbrage to his master, . , or excited who was himself a would-be poet, and could the jealousy not bear to have a rival. Whatever may °^ ^^""^^ have been the cause of his disgrace, Lucan could not patiently submit to be thus silenced. His vanity needed the plaudits of the crowd ; his genius perhaps inhlsresent- seemed cramped and chilled for the want of ^^"^^ kindly sympathy. For the habit of public readings, then so common, took to some extent the place of the journals and reviews of modern times, and brought an author into im- mediate relation with the cultivated world for whom he wrote. When this pleasure was denied him Lucan first distilled into his poem some of the bitterness of his wounded pride, and then joined a band of , , * ', •' . . ., he took part resolute men who were conspiring to strike in a con- down the monarch of whom they were long ^p'*"^*^* weary and to set up a noble Piso in his place. The plot came to an untimely end, and most of those who joined it lost their lives. Lucan lost not his life only, but his honour, for when his fears were worked upon ii8 TJie Earlier Empire. a.d. 54-68. he gave evidence against his friends, and even denounced his mother as an accompUce in the plot. both Hfe and We Can have httle pity when we read that honour. j^g could not save his hfe even by such means, nor can we feel interest in the affected calmness with which, in his last moments, he recited from his poem an account of death-agonies somewhat like his own. There died at the same time the chief professor of a very different creed from that of the great Stoics. Petronius Petronius had given a lifetime to the study Arbiter, of the refinements of luxurious ease : his wit and taste and ingenuity had made him the oracle of Roman fashion, or the * arbiter,' as he was called, of elegance. Nothing new could pass current in the gay world of the city till it had the stamp of his approval. He was the probable author of a satire which the probable curiously reflects the tone of social thought curious around him, its self-contempt, its mocking iric nove , jj^gjgj^^^ ^^^ j^g shameless immorality. The work is a strange medley. It contains among other things a specimen of a heroic poem on the same theme as that of Lucan's, full of the mythological machinery which the bolder poet had eschewed, and intended, there- fore, possibly as a protest against Lucan's revolutionary canons. It gives us also, in the supper of Trimalchio, a curious picture of the tasteless extravagance and vulgar ostentation of the wealthy upstarts of the times, such as might please the fastidious pride of the nobles in Roman circles. It might amuse them also, sated as they were with fashionable gossip, to hear the common people talk, and to be led in fancy into the disreputable haunts through which the hero of the piece is made to wander in the course of strange adventures, like a 'Gil Bias ' of old romance. The writer, if he really was Petronius, roused at last a jealousv which caused his ruin; for A.D. 54-68. Nero. 119 the vile favourite, Tigellinus, who had gained the ear of Nero, and aspired to be the master of cere- ^^^^^^^^ the monies at the palace, could not bear a rival J^f^^,",?y^f^ near him. He trumped up a false charge against a leader of him, worked upon his master's fears which ^ ^ ^ '°"^' had been excited lately by the widespread conspiracy of Piso, and had an order sent to him to keep away from court. Petronius took the message for his was banished death-warrant, and calmly prepared to meet ^'^'*™ ^^""' his end. He set his house in order, gave instructions to reward some and punish others of his slaves, wrote out his will, and composed a stinging satire upon the Em- peror's foul excesses which he sealed and sent to him before he died. It was noted that at the last no philo- sopher stood at his bedside to whisper words and died of comfort or dwell on hopes of immortality, J^^^ indiffer- but that true, even in death, to his ignoble, e^ce. godless creed, he amused himself as the streams of life were ebbing with frivolous epigrams and wanton verses. Besides the portents of cruelty and lust, confined mainly to the walls of Rome, other disasters were not wanting to leave their gloomy traces on the annals ot the times. A hasty rising of the British tribes under Oueen Boadicea was followed by the sack The rising in of two great Roman colonies, Camalodunum gr"aT"oss"of and Londinium, and the loss of seventy thou- We. sand men. In Armenia a general's incapacity had brought dishonour on the legions and nearly caused the loss of Syria. Italy had been visited with hurricane and other and plague ; and the volcanic forces that had ^^f of*^t£^* been long pent up beneath Vesuvius gave some time, token of their power by rocking the ground on which Pompeii stood and laying almost all its buildings low. It was the monarch's turn at length to suffer some of the agony now felt around him ; and after fourteen 120 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 54-68. years he fell because the world seemed weary of him, The revolt of ^"^ "°"^ ^^'^^^ ^ ^^^^ ^" ^^^ defence. The Vindex, in signal of revolt was given first in Gaul, where Vindex, a chieftain of a powerful clan of Aquitania, roused the slumbering discontent into a flame by describing, as an eye-witness, the infamy of Nero's rule and the ends to which the heavy taxes were applied. He told them of Sporus carried as a bride in Nero's litter and submitting publicly to his caresses ; of Tigellinus lording it at Rome, and making havoc among noble lives, while his master was fiddling in all the theatres of Greece ; of Poppaea Sabina, first his mistress then his wife, who had her mules shod with shoes of gold, and five hundred asses daily milked to fill- her bath ; of the countless millions \vrung from toiling subjects and squandered on a vile favourite or a passing fancy. Waiving all hopes of personal ambition, he urged Galba, the governor of Spain, to lead the movement, and came to terms with Verginius Rufus, who was marching from taken up by Germany against him. He killed himself, the death of ^^dced, soon after with his own hand in Vindex. despair, when the soldiers of Verginius fell upon his followers without orders from their general ; but Galba was moving with his legions, and courier after courier arrived in Rome to say that the West of the Empire was in arms. Nero heard the tidings first at Naples, but took little Nero's in- ^^^^ .^^ anything except the taunts of Vindex difference at at his sorry acting ; and even when he ^"^' came at length to Rome he wavered be- tween childish levity and ferocious threats. Some- followed by t^"^^s he could think only of silly jests and strange alter- scientific toys, somctimcs he dreamed of fear- nations of _ . hope and lul vengeance on the traitors and their par- despair, tisans in Rome and then again he would drop into maudlin lamentations, talk of moving his A.D. 54-68. Nero. 121 legions to sympathy by pathetic scenes, or of giving up the throne to live for art in humble peace. He tried to levy troops, but none answered to the call ; Deserted on the praetorian guards refused to march, the ^'^ ^^^^> sentries even slunk away and left their posts, while the murmurs grew hourly more threatening, and ominous cries were heard even in the city. Afraid to stay within the palace, he went at night to ask his friends for shelter; but the doors of all were barred. He came back again to find his chambers plundered, and the box of poisons which he had hoarded gone. At length a freedman, Phaon, offered him a hiding-place outside the walls ; he fled away and barefooted as he was, with covered face, freedman's* Nero rode away to seek it. As he went by the i^ouse, quarters of the soldiers he heard them curse him and wish Galba joy. At last he and his guide leave the horses and creep through the brushwood and the rushes to the back of Phaon's house, where on hands and feet he crawls through a narrow hole which was broken through the wall. Stretched on a paltry mattress, in a dingy cell, hungry, but turning in disgust from the black bread, ^^^^j j^j^ with the water from the marsh to slake his hiniseif - - . , awhile m an thirst, he listens with reluctance to the friends agony of who urge him to put an end to such ignoble suspense, scenes. He has a grave dug hastily to the measure of his body, and fragments of marble gathered for his monument, and he feels the dagger's edge, but has not nerve enough to use it. He asks some of the bystanders to then at last show him by their example how to die, and [o^iafi him-* then he feels ashamed of his own weakness and self, mutters, ' Fie, Nero ! now is the time to play the man.' At last comes Phaon's courier with the news that the Senate had put a price upon his head ; the tramp of the horses tells him that his pursuers are on his track, and fear gives him the nerve to put the dagger to his throat, while, true to the passion of his life, he mutters, * What a loss my death 122 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 54-68. will be to art ! ' Stoicism had taught his victims how to die with grand composure ; but all his high art and dra- matic studies could not save him from the meanest exit from the stage. His last wish was granted, and they burnt the body where it lay, to save it from the outrage that might follow. Two poor women, who had nursed him as a baby, and Acte, the object of his boyish love, gathered up his ashes and laid them beside the rest of his own race. It might be thought that few but his own pampered favourites could retain any affectionate remembrance of such a monster of sensuality and cruel caprice, who at his best was moody and volatile, un- dignified and vain ; yet it seems that a fond memory of him Hngered in the hearts of many of the people, who brought their flowers to deck his grave or posted up proclamations which an- nounced that he was living still and would come to take Pretenders vengeance on his enemies. Pretenders started appeared in up from time to time and gathered adherents IS name. round them in his name, and even after twenty years one such adventurer, of humble birth, received from the Parthians a welcome and support, and was reluctantly abandoned by them at the last. Strange affection for his memory- shown by some of the populace. CHAPTER VI. GALEA.— A.D. 68-69, The accession of Sulpicius Galba was due to a stir of independence in the provinces. Gaul would not brook the The career of rule of Nero longer, and the chief who came S^accer/^'" forward in the name of Vindex to mairi- sion. tain their liberty of choice, and whose fiery proclamations hurled Nero from his throne, called upon Galba to succeed him. He came of ancient lineage, though A.D. 68-69. Galba. 123 As governor of Spain, he had only a small force, which was not hearty in his cause. When he unconnected with the family which through natural ties or by adoption had given six emperors to Rome. Early omens are said to have drawn upon him as a boy the notice of Augustus and Tiberius ; he was hotly courted by the widowed Agrippina, and took a high place among / the legatees of Livia Augusta in the will that was not^ carried out. Many years of his life were spent in high^ command in Africa, Germany, and Spain, where he be- came eminent for energy and strict discipline, bordering at times on harshness, till he put on a show of easy sloth to disarm the jealousy of Nero. The force at his command was small. A single legion and two troops of horse formed but a scanty army to c^^ry an Emperor to Rome. His soldiers s1 .\^ed no great enthusiasm for him, and some 01 his cavalry were minded even to desert him heard the news of the death of Vindex he despaired not of success only but of life, and thought of ending his career by his own hand. So far he had appealed only to the province that he ruled, had begun to levy troops and strengthen his tiny army, and to form a council of provincial notabilities to advise him like a senate. He called himself the servant only of the Roman State. But when the tidings came that the capital had accepted him for their new ruler he took at once the name of Ciesar, and put forth without disguise im- perial claims. Rival pretenders started up at once around him. In Africa, in Germany, in the quarters of the Praetorian guards, generals came forward to dispute the prize, for every camp might have its claimant when the power of the sword would give a title to the throne ; but one after another fell, while their soldiers wavered or deserted them. So Galba made his way to Rome without a struggle. But before him came but was ac- cepted by the popu- lace instead of Nero. Rival pre- tenders rose and fell, 124 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 68-69. the rumours of his harshness and his parsimony. He and Gaiba ^^^ Sternly fined and punished the cities that made his were slow to recognise him, and put men to Shout a "^^ death unheard as partisans of the fallen causes, bm^flceded ^^^ stories reappeared of the severities of by ugly earlier days— of the money-changer whose rumours. j^^^^^g ^^ j^^^ x^^W^^ to the bcuch where he had given false weight, of the criminal for whom he had provided in mockery a higher cross than usual, as he protested that he was a citizen of Rome. There and with no ^^^ ^\"^^ ^^ attract the people in the sight attractive of their new prince, who entered Rome upon °° ' a litter, with hands and feet crippled by the gout, and face somewhat cold and hard, marked already with the feebleness of old age. The soldiers were the first to murmur. The marines whom Nero had called out mutinied when they were sent Discontent of ^^^^ ^^ jo^^ their ships, but they were sternly the marines, checked and decimated. The imperial body- guard of Germans was disbanded and sent back home empty-handed. The praetorians, ashamed already of the death of Nero and their prae- fect, heard with rage that the new sovereign would not court their favour or stoop to buy the loyalty of his soldiers. The legions on the frontier were ill- pleased to think that their voices counted for so little, that they were not thought worthy of a word or promise. The German army chafed because their general Verginius had been removed on flattering pretexts, but really because his influence over them was feared ; and they construed his forced absence from the camp as an insult to their loyalty, and the exceptional favours shown ^ . to some towns of Gaul as a marked affront and city rr j populace. Ottered to themselves. Nor was the city populace in a cheerful mood. For years they had been prxto ians, A.D. 68-69. Galba, 125 feasted and caressed ; races and games, gladiators and wild beasts had made life seem a holiday and kept them ever in good humour. Now they heard that there was to be an end to all such cheer, for their ruler was a morose, penurious old man, who thought a few silver pieces awarded to the finest actor of the day a present worthy of a prince. Nero's favourites and servants heard with rage that they must disgorge at once the plunder of the past ris'ime, A commission was appointed to call ^, . ^ r 1 1 Nero s ser- them to account and to wrest from them what vants and their master's prodigality had given, and as a ^^ountes, special grace to leave them each a beggarly tithe of all the presents, in which he had expended during the few years of his reign no less than two thousand one hundred million sesterces. The Senate and the men of worth ^^^ ^^ ^^ and rank were full of hope at first, for Galba Senate. seemed upright and spoke them fair. But soon they found? to their dismay, that all influence had passed out of their hands, and that the Emperor himself was not the ruling power in the state. Three favourites — one a 'pj^g favour- freedman, Icelus ; two of higher rank, T.Vinius, "es of Galba his legate, and Cornelius Laco, an assessor abuse their in his court of justice — had followed him from p^^^"^- Spain, and gained, as it seemed, an absolute control over his acts. They never left him, and the wits of Rome called them the Emperor's pedagogues ; indeed, they seemed to guide the old man as by the leading-strings of childhood, and to recall the memory of the worst days of the dotard Claudius. Public offices of trust, boons, immunities, and honours were put up shamelessly to auction, and the life and honour of free men were sacrificed to the caprice and greed of haughty and venal minions, while the most infa- mous of Nero's creatures, TigeUinus, was saved by their influence from the fate he merited. 126 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 68-69. A.D. 68-69. Galba. 127 In a short time the discontent was universal. Already the legions of the Rhine had refused the oath of loyalty, and called on the Senate and the people to choose another Emperor, while in the city the temper of all classes boded ill. But Galba took one more step, and that was fatal. Galba Feeling that at the age of seventy-three he as hil^^or"^° had not strength to rule alone, he decided to league; adopt a Colleague and successor. His choice fell on Piso Frugi Licinianus, who was young, noble, and of eminent worth. But the act came too late to regain the confidence that had been lost, and only provoked a speedier explosion of fear, jealousy, and disaffection ; the more so because the speech in which he told the soldiers of his choice was of almost disdainful brevity, and irri- tated minds that were still wavering and might have been won over by a little timely liberality. The blow came from the praetorian camp, in which two common soldiers undertook to give away the throne, and but Otho ^^P^ their word. A freedman had tampered intrigued with them in the interest of his master Otho, soldiers of who had hoped to take the place that Piso the guard, filled, and who would now try foul means, as fair had failed. The soldiers felt the temper of their comrades, and Otho's intimates and servants were lavish with their presents to the guard on all occasions. While Galba stood one morning beside the altar on which the victim lay, and the priest read presages of disaster in the entrails, Otho was beckoned suddenly away on the plea of buying an old property with the advice of his architects and builders. In the Forum he found twenty-three praetorians, who hurried him in a litter to their camp, and then presented him to the homage of their comrades. All were soon won over with fair words and liberal promises of bounty. The marines had not forgiven the Emperor his harsh treatment was sud- denly hur- ried off to the camp, and saluted Emperor. Alarming rumours spread rapidly through Rome, of their comrades, and therefore joined the movement eagerly, while the armed forces quartered in the city made common cause with the insurgents, thrusting aside the officers who tried to hold them m. Rumours passed rapidly through Rome meanwhile. At first men heard that the guards were up in arms against their prince and had carried off a senator, some said Otho, to their camp. Mes- sengers were dispatched at once by the startled rulers to secure if possible the obedience of the other forces, while Piso appealed to the company on guard around the palace to be staunch and true even though others wavered, and then set out to face the insurgents in the camp. Shortly after came the news that the praetorians had slain Otho to assert their loyalty, and that they were coming to salute their sove- reign. The false news spread, designedly or not, and all classes who had hesitated before streamed into the palace to make a show of joy, and to conduct Galba to the camp, while one soldier in the crowd waved in the air his sword, dripping, as he said, with Otho's blood. But ^^^ ^2X^02,, the Emperor, mindful of discipline to the last, after much jijj->> hesitation, said, ' Comrade, who bade you do the deed .'' set out for At length he started, after much debate and '^^ *=^p ' doubt, but could make little way among the densely- crowded streets, and hardly reached the Forum, when the insurgent troops appeared in sight. They were joined at once by his single company of guards ; together they charged and dispersed the crowd that followed him, while the slaves that bore the litter flung it down upon the ground and left their master stunned and helpless and un- defended, to be hacked to death by the fierce but while on soldiery that closed about him. So died, says ^^^ upon'Sd Tacitus, one whom all would have thought killed; fit for empire, had he not been Emperor in deed. There 128 The Earlier Empire, A.D. 69. A.D. 69. Otho, 129 ^k were many claimants for the honour of dispatching him, and Vitellius received more than one hundred and twenty- letters of petition from men who looked for high reward for such a signal merit. To save the trouble of deciding and to discourage so dangerous a precedent, he ordered all the suitors to be put to death. Piso had fled for sanctuary meantime to Vesta's temple, where a poor slave took pity on him and gave him the shelter of his hut. But the emissaries of Otho were soon upon the spot to drag him from his hiding-place and slay him on the temple steps and take his head to feast his master's eyes. The friends of the fallen rulers were allowed by special favour to buy their bodies from the soldiers, and show them the last tokens of respect. and Piso, who had fled to sanctuary, was slain at the temple steps. CHAPTER VII. OTHO. — A.D. 69. M. Salvius Otho began in early youth a wild and dis- solute career. To gain a footing in the palace he paid his court to an old waiting-maid of influence, career of '^ ^ and before long became one of the most pro- dissipation. mincnt of the set of young roysterers who, surrounded Nero. He rose to be the chief friend and confidant of the young prince, encouraged him in his worst excesses, was privy even to his mother's murder, and gave the luxurious supper which lulled her fears to rest. He relied too much, however, on his influence, and presumed to be the Emperor's rival for the heart of Poppaea Sabina, after giving her his hand and home to cloak Nero's wanton love. To cover his disgrace and check the scandalous gossip of the city he was appointed to official duties in Lusitania, where for ten years his equity and self-restraint were a marked contrast to the infamy of his earlier and later life. In of better Galba's rise to power he saw his opportunity repute in f J 1 1 1 11 1 • r provincial of return, and he exhausted all his arts of rule, flattery and address in the attempt to win the old man's favour, with the further hope that he might take the place which the Emperor's death would soon vacate. That hope once baffled, he calmly Rome with laid his plans, and swept away without com- ^^^^' punction the obstacles that barred his road to power. On the evening of the day when Galba fell he made his way across the blood-stained Forum to the palace, while the Senate in a hurried meeting passed all the usual votes of honour for their new prince. The ^^^ ^^^, populace were ready with their cheers, and placed him. pressed him to take the name of Nero, in memory of the revels of his youth. But the real power was in the soldiers' hands, and they watched with jealous care the puppet they had set upon the throne. He had nothing of the soldier's bearing, was efl'eminate in look and car- riage, with beardless face and an ungainly He gained walk. Yet, strange to say, they loved him loyaulfS"!' well, and were loyal to him to the last. They love- kept watch and ward with anxio\is care that no evil might befall him. They once flew to arms in groundless panic when he was seated with his friends at supper, forced their way even to his presence, to make sure that their favourite was safe; and when he died some slew themselves in their despair, as the dog dies upon his master's grave. Otho could refuse them nothing. He let them choose their own commanders, listened readily to all their grievances, gave them freely all they asked for, and had recourse to subterfuges to rescue from their clutches some whom he A.M. K I30 The Earlier Empire. A.D. 69. A.D. 69. Otho. 131 wished to spare. He had soon need of all their loyalty, for But the even before Galba's death the armies of the armies of the Rhine had hailed as Emperor their general Rhine had ■»,. 1,. i ^ • i • 1 chosen Vitellius, and their legions were already on asThciJ^ the march for Rome. For they were weary Emperor, of the monotony of constant drill and bor- der camps, and flushed with triumph at the ease with which they had crushed the hopes of Vindex. They cast greedy eyes on the wealth of Gaul, and were jealous of the privileged prsetorians ; they felt their power and longed to use it, now that the fatal secret had been learnt, that emperors were not made at Rome alone. So leaving Vitellius himself to follow slowly with the levies newly raised, two armies made their way to Italy, with Valens and Caecina at their head, and crossing the ^ , Alps by different passes, after spreading terror the march among the peoples of Gaul and of Helvetia, ome. j^^^ ^^ j^g^ upon the plains of Lombardy. Letters meantime had passed between Vitellius and Otho, in which each urged the other to abate his claims, and to take anything short of the imperial power. From promises they passed to threats, and thence to plots. Each sent assassins to destroy the other, and each failed to gain his end. But the legions of the North came daily After fruit- nearer, and Otho lost no time in mustering tures'o?" ^^^ forces, and showed an energy of which peace, few had thought him capable. He could count upon the army in the East, where Vespasian was acting in his name. The nearer legions in Pannonia and Dalmatia were true to him, and would soon be ready Otho to join the forces that he led from Rome, to^meet^ So with such houschold troops as he could them. gather and the questionable contingent of two thousand gladiators, he set out to meet the enemy and to appeal to the decision of the sword. With him there went perforce many of the chief officers of state, the senators of consular rank, nobles and knights of high position : some proud of their gay arms and trappings, but raw and timid soldiers for the most part, thinking often more of the pleasures of the table than of the real business of war. But their presence in the camp gave moral support to Otho's cause, and lessened the danger of disaffection in the rear. His most skilful generals urged delay till his distant forces could come up His generals from Illyria or the East ; but his soldiers were tufhetlSd rash and headstrong and, flushed by slight not wait, successes at first over Caecina, accused their chiefs of treachery. His confidants were inexperienced and san- guine, and Otho would not wait. He had not the nerve to bear suspense nor yet to brave the crash of battle. So weakening his army by the withdrawal of his guard, he retired to Brixellum (Brescia), to wait impatiently for the result, and to send messages in quick succession to urge his generals to fight without delay. The armies met in the shock of battle on the plains near ^^^ ^^^^ Bedriacum, where Otho's best generals, was routed r 1 ,-1 • ^ ii • -n xu on the battle forced to hght against their will, were the field of first to leave the field, and his ill-led and i^^driacum, mutinous soldiers broke and fled. But the poor gladia- tors stood their ground and died almost to a man. The fugitives from the field of battle soon brought the tidings to Brixellum, and Otho saw that all was over. His guards, indeed, boasted of their loyal love, and urged him to live and to renew the struggle, and told him of his distant armies on the march. But he had staked his all upon a single battle, and he knew that he must pay his losses. He was sick perhaps of civil bloodshed, though the fine word«? which Tacitus ascribes to him sound K a 132 The Earlier Einpire. A.D. 69. strangely in the mouth of one who plotted against Galba and gloated over Piso's death. He waited one more day to let the senators retire who had reluctantly followed him to war, and to save Verginius from the blind fury of the soldiers, or perhaps with some faint lingering hope of rescue ; he spent one more night, we know not in what and he died thoughts, upon his bed, and at the dawn took hand^a?*" up his dagger and died by his own hand. It Brixeiium. \vas certainly no hero's death. The meanest of that day, the poor gladiator of the stage, could face death calmly when his hour was come ; and reigns of terror and the Stoics' creed had long made suicide a thing of course to every weary or despairing soul. Yet so rare were the lessons of unselfishness in high places, that men thought it noble in him to risk no more his soldiers' lives, painted with a loving hand the picture of his death, and whispered that his bold stroke for empire \f as perhaps the act, not of an unscrupulous adventurer, but of a republican who wished to restore his country's freedom. CHAPTER VIII. VITELLIUS.— A.D. 69. A. ViTELLlUS had only a short term of power, but it was long enough to mark perhaps the lowest depth ^ to which elective monarchy has ever fallen, dents of His father Lucius had done good service Viteihus. ^g ^ soldier, but he came back to Rome to disgrace his name by mean and abject flattery of the A.D. 69. Vitellius. ^U He copied his father in mean flat- tery and complai- sance. ruling powers. To pay his homage to the divine Caligula he veiled his beard and bowed to the ground in silent adoration. To push his fortunes in the court of Claudius, where wives and freedmen ruled, he kept the effi- gies of Pallas and Narcissus among those of his household gods, and carried one of Messalina's slippers in his bosom, to have the pleasure of kissing it in public. He rose to be thrice consul, and the admiring Senate had graven on his statue in the Forum the words which told of his unswerving loyalty towards his prince. The son followed in his father^s steps and pandered to the vices of three Emperors in turn. As a youth he shared the sensual orgies of Tiberius at Capreas, he pleased Claudius by his skill at dice, and Nero by using a show of force when he was too shy to sing in public. In the province of Africa he bore a better character as proconsul, but as commissioner of public works at Rome he was said to have filched the gold out of the temples and replaced it with ornaments of baser metal. Yet on the recall of Verginius he was sent by Sentby Galba to command the camp in lower Galba to y-. -» yr 1 1 1 • command Germany. Men thought the appointment the army on strange enough. Some said he owed it to *^^ Rhme. a favourite's caprice; some fancied that he was chosen from contempt, as too mean and slothful to be dangerous in command. He was the greatest glutton of his times, had eaten all his means away, and had to Glutton and leave his family in hired lodgings and to though'he' pledge his mother's jewels to pay the ex- was, penses of his journey. But he started in the gayest mood, made messmates and friends of all he met, and did not stay to pick and choose. His low pleasantries and jovial humour charmed all the muleteers and soldiers on the road, and in the camp he was hearty and 134 The Earlier Empire. A.D. 69. affable to all alike, was always ready to relax the rules of discipline, and seldom took the trouble to refuse a prayer. The army saw in him a general the affection who was too liberal and open-handed to die'r^V°his ^^^^ ^° sUnt them to their beggarly pit- easy good- tance and keep them to taskwork on the frontier. He would not try to curb their license or deny them plunder if they were once upon the march to Rome. Two leading generals, Fabius Valens and Alienus Ccecina, saw in him also Valens and • ^ -, Caecina. a Convenient tool, whose very vices caught fecTedto^*^^ the fancy of the soldiers, and whose name Galba, stir would sound wcU in a proclamation, but who the army and , ^ • ■, ■, • •, , put VitelUus was too weak and indolent to wish to rule, forward, ^^^ would be obliged to fall back on men of action like themselves. Both wished for civil war on personal grounds. Valens resented bitterly the neglect of the good service rendered by him to Galba's cause; Caecina had just been detected in fraudulent use of public money and would soon be called to an account. Within a month a crowd of soldiers gather at nightfall round their general's tent, force their way into his pre- sence, and carry him upon their shoulders through the camp, while their comrades salute their new Emperor with acclamations. The legions of the upper who IS soon . t 1 • 1 1 11 proclaimed province wcre already m revolt, and soon broke Emperor. ^^iQ idle oath of allegiance to the Senate and joined their comrades of the lower Rhine. The two armies The march Under Valcns and Caecina pushed forward to Italy, by separate routes to cross the Alps. Their track was marked by license and by rapine. The frightened villagers fled away; the townsfolk trembled lest their riches should tempt the soldiers' greed, or jealous neigh- bours vent their spite in treacherous charges, and were glad at any cost to purchase safety from the leaders. A.D. 69. VitelUus. 13s Csecina was the first to front the foe, but was beaten off from the strong walls of Placentia after a vain at- tempt to storm it, which caused the ruin of the amphi- theatre, the finest of the kind in Italy and the pride of all the townsmen. Valens, however, was not ^^^ ^.^^^^ far behind, and the two armies once united of Bedria- crushed the badly-handled troops of Otho in *'""'' the victory of Bedriacum, near the confluence of the Addua and the Padus. Vitellius was in no mood to hurry. He was very well content to move in pomp and triumph on the road, or float at ease along the rivers, while his guards did the fighting. The provincials vied with each other in their eagerness to do him honour, and they found that the one passport to his favour was to provide abundance of good cheer. He was glutton and epi- cure in one. The countries through which he passed were drained of all their choicest, costliest while vitei- , , , . V ^ lius IS feast- viands, and every halt upon the way was the i^gby the signal for a round of sumptuous banquets, way. which never came too fast for his voracious appetite; while his train of followers gave loose to insolent license, plundering as they went and quarrelling with their hosts, and Vitellius only laughed in uproarious mirth to see their brawls. The rude soldiers of the North settled like a cloud of locusts on the fair lands of Italy; cornfields and vineyards were stripped for many a league upon their way, and towns were ruined to supply their food. Pillage and rioting took the place of the stern ^^ ^^^^ disciphne of frontier armies, and camp-fol- into Rome of lowers ravaged what the soldiers spared, fookbg ' Even in the streets of Rome the quiet ^^°f^5fi°^^^ citizens stood aghast as the wild-looking troops came pouring in, the untanned skins of beasts upon their shoulders, their clumsy sandals slipping 13^ The Earlier Empire, a.d. 69. A.D. 69. Vitellius, 137 on the stones. But the soldiers were in no mood to brook a curious stare or mocking jibe, for a blow soon followed on a word, and bloody brawls destroyed the peace of the streets where they were quartered, b^ecina, with his cloak of plaid and Gallic trousers, had little of the Roman general's look, nor did men eye his wife with pleasure as she rode by on her fine horse with withVitel- purple trappings. With them in military l»"s. guise came the new master of the world, the soldiers' choice, with the drunkard's fiery face and weak legs that could scarcely carry his unwieldy frame. He now returned in state to the city from which he stole away but lately to avoid importunate creditors. His first care was to pay honour to the memory of Nero and to call at a concert for the song that he had loved, as if he saw in him the ideal of a ruler. But the substance who let his o^ power passed at once out of his feeble favourites hands ; the generals who had led his troops while he governed in his name, while Asiaticus, his freedman, copied the insolence of the fa- vourites of Claudius. Their master meantime gave all his thoughts to the pleasures of the table, inventing new dishes to contain portentous pasties to which every land must yield its quota, and spending in a few short months nine hundred million sesterces in sumptuous fare. But he had no long time to eat and drink undisturbed. E^i'ves*" ^^J^^i" eight months the armies of the East pasian was ^^^^ ^he oath of allegiance to Vespasian, and soon in arms, the legions in Moesia and Pannonia, which had not been able to strike a blow for Otho, were ready to avenge him by turning their arms against Vitellius. The main army of the enemy, indeed, was slow to move ; but Primus Antonius, a bold and resolute officer, pushed on with the scanty forces that lay nearest on the road to Italy, and reached Verona before a blow was struck. He might have paid dearly for his rashness if the generals of Vitellius had been prompt and and all loyal ; but their mutual jealousies caused conTpiJe'to treachery and wavering counsels in their help him. midst, and all seemed to conspire to help Vespasian. The air and luxury of Rome had done their work upon the vigour of the German legions, and their morale had suffered even more. The auxiliary forces had been dis- banded and sent home ; recruiting had been stopped for want of funds ; furloughs were freely granted ; and the old praetorians had been broken up and were streaming now to join Antonius. The Etesian winds, which were blow- ing at this time, wafted the ships towards the East, but delayed all the homeward-bound, so that little was known of the plans and movements of the enemy, while it was no secret that the forces of Vitellius were daily growing weaker, and that Caecina was chafing visibly at the rising popularity of Valens. The fleet at Ravenna was the first to declare against Vitellius, for their ad- The trea- miral, Lucilius Bassus, had failed to gain the plTssL'^Ld post of prastorian praefect, and was eager to Csecina, avenge the slight. Ciecina, who was taking the com- mand in the north of Italy, tried first to let the war drag slowly on, and then to spread disaffection in the ranks, and to raise the standard for Vespasian. But the soldiers had more sense of honour than their leaders. Hearing of the plot, they rose at once, threw Caecina and some others into chains, and fought on doggedly with- out a e^eneral. The crash of war came a ^ /- J • ^"" second second time upon the plains of Bedriacum, battle of where, after hard fighting, the legions of Ger- Bedriacum. many were routed, and flying in confusion to their en- trenchments at Cremona, brought upon the unoffending town all the horrors of havoc and destruction. I ^ 138 TJie Earlier Empire. a.d. 69. Even amid the scenes of that year of strife and car- nage the fate of Cremona sent a thrill of horror through- Sad fate of out Italy. So suddenly came the ruin on the Cremona. city that the great fair held there at that time was crowded with strangers from all parts, who shared the fate of the poor citizens. At a hasty word from their general Antonius, who said that the water in the bath was lukewarm and should be hotter soon, the soldiers broke all the bands of discipline, and for four days pillaged and burnt and tortured at their pleasure, till there was left only a heap of smoking ruins, and crowds of miserable captives kept for sale, whom for very shame no one would buy. Vitellius meanwhile had hardly realized his danger, till the news came of the treachery of C^cina and the Vitellius in- ^^sasters at Bedriacum and Cremona. Even capable and then at first he tried to hide them from the world and to silence the gloomy murmurs that were floating through the city. The enemy returned to him the scouts whom he had sent, but after hearing what they had to tell in secret he had their mouths stopped for ever. A centurion, Julius Agrestis, tried in vain to rouse him to be stirring, and volunteered to ascertain the truth with his own eyes. He went, returned, and when the Emperor affected still to disbelieve, he gave the best proof he could of his sincerity by falling on his sword upon the spot. Then, at last, Vitellius summoned reso- lution to raise recruits from the populace of Rome, and to call out the newly-levied cohorts of the guards. He set out at their head to guard the passes of the Apennines, but he soon wearied of the hardships of the field, and came back again to Rome to hear fresh tidings of treach- ery and losses, and to be told that Valens had been captured in the effort to raise Gaul in his defence, and to feel that his days of power were numbered. In despair A.D. 69. Vitellius. 139 at last he thought of abdication, and came to terms with Vespasian's brother, Flavius Sabinus, Tried to who had long been praefect of the city. In a 'J^f^J^^^^^. few hopeless words he told the soldiers and vented by the people that he resigned all claims upon t^^^ soldiers, them, and laid aside the insignia of empire in the shrine of Concord. But the troops from Germany, who had felt their power a few months since, could not believe that it had passed out of their hands, and they rose in blind fury at the thought of tame submission. They forced Vitellius to resume his titles, and hurried to attack Sabinus, who, with some of the leading men of Rome and a scanty band of followers, was driven who stormed for refuge to the Capitol. There they andS'°^ found shelter for a single night, but on Sabinus; the morrow the citadel was attacked and stormed by overpowering numbers. A few resolute men died in its defence ; some slipped away in various disguises, and among them Domitian, the future Emperor ; but the rest were hunted down and slain in flight. In the confusion of the strife the famous temple of Jupiter caught ^^^ j„ ^^^ fire. All were too busy to give time or thought ^^^^^^^^^ to stay the flames, and in a few hours only jupiter was ruins were left of the greatest of the national ^"™^- monuments of Rome, which, full of the associations of the past, had served for ages as a sort of record office in which were treasured the memorials of ancient history, the laws, the treaties, and the proclamations of old times. The loss was one that could not be replaced, but it was soon to be avenged. Antonius was not far away with the vanguard of Vespasian's army. Messengers came fast to tell him first that the Capitol was besieged, and then that it was stormed. They were followed soon by envoys from the Senate to plead for peace, but they were roughly handled by the soldiers ; and Musonius 140 The Earlier Empire, A.D. 69. Antonius entered Rome and slaughtered the Vitel- lians. Rufus, of the Stoic creed, who had come unbidden with his calming lessons of philosophy found scant hearing for his balanced periods about concord, for the rude soldiers jeered and hooted till the sage dropped his ill- timed lecture for fear of still worse usage. Vestal Virgins came with letters from Vitellius asking for a single day of truce, but in vain, for the murder of Sabinus had put an end to the courtesies of war. Soon the army was at the gates of Rome, and scenes of fearful carnage followed in the gardens and the streets even of the city, for the Vitellians still sullenly resisted, though without leaders or settled methods of defence, till at length they were borne down by numbers, while the populatfon turned with savage jeers against them and helped to hunt them from their hiding-places and to strip the bodies of the fallen. When the enemy was at the city gates, Vitel- lius slunk quietly away in a litter, with his butler and his cook to bear him company, in the hope of flying to the South. Losing heart or nerve, he had himself carded back again, and wandered restlessly through the deserted chambers of the palace. His servants even slipped away, and he was left alone. Before long the plunderers made their way into the palace, and after searching high and low found him at length hidden be- hind a mattress in the porter's lodge, or, as another version of the story runs, crouching in a kennel with the dogs. They dragged him out with insults and blows, paraded him in mockery through the streets, and buflfeted him to death at last in the place where the bodies of the meanest criminals were flung to feed the birds of prey. Vitellius was dragged from his hiding-place and siain, with insults. Vcspasia7i. 141 The humble origin and chequered career of Vespasian. CHAPTER IX. VESPASIAN.— A.D. 69-79. The Flavian family, to which the next three Emperors belonged, was of no high descent. It was said, indeed — though Suetonius could find no evidence for the story— that Vespasian's great-grandfather was a day-labourer of Umbria, who came each year to work in the hire of a Sabine farmer, till at last he settled at Reate. His father had been a tax-gatherer in Asia, and had taken afterwards to the money-lender's trade, and dying left a widow with two sons, Sabinus and Vespasianus. The younger showed in early life no high ambition, did not care even to be senator, and was only brought to sue for honours by the taunts and entreaties of his mother. Fortune did not seem to smile on him at first. Caligula was angry because the streets were foul when he was sedile, and had his bosom plastered up with mud. He proved his valour as a soldier in many a battlefield in Germany and Britain, but fell into disgrace again because his patron was Nar- cissus, on whose friends Agrippina looked askance. Then he rose to be governor of Africa, and was too fair not to give offence; but his worst danger was from Nero's vanity, which he sorely wounded, by going to sleep while he was singing, or by leaving the party altogether. Shun- ning the court, he lived in quiet till the rising in Judaea made Nero think of him again as a general of ^^^^ ^^ ^ tried capacity, yet too modest and unambi- mand in tious to be feared. By his energy and valour ^^ ^^' he soon restored discipline and won the soldiers' trust, I fi 142 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 69-79. and was going on vigorously with the work of conquest he showed whcn the news came of Nero's fall. His his skill, and son Titus sct out to pay his compliments to won tii6 soldiers' Galba, and possibly to push his fortunes at '"'"''*• the court ; but hearing at Corinth that Galba too had fallen, and that Otlio was in his place, he sailed back at once to join his father. Vespasian's friends now thought that the time was come for him to strike a blow for empire. The two rivals who were quarrelling for the prize were men of infamous character and no talents for command, while the legions of the East trusted their generals and were jealous of the Western armies. The rumour was spread among them that they were to be shifted from their quarters to the rigour of the German frontier, to let others reap the fruits of war ; and they began to clamour for an em- _. ^ peror of their own. Mucianus, the governor Titus and e c^ • • i i /- Mucianus ot Syria, might have been a formidable rival, fJmake^'"' for he was brilliant and dexterous in action, himself of winning ways and ready speech, had moved Emperor, i i • i • t -i among the highest circles, and won the affec- tions of his soldiers. He was no friend to Vespasian, for he had coveted his post in Palestine; yet now, from a rare prudence or self-sacrifice, or gained over, it may be, by the graceful tact of Titus, he was willing to waive all claims of personal ambition and to share all the dangers of the movement. But Vespasian himself was slow to move. He had made his army take the oath to each and he con- Emperor in turn, and he thought mainly now sented with of the war that lay ready to his hand. The reluctance. urgent pleadings of his son, the well-turned periods of Mucianus, such as Tacitus puts into his mouth, the sanguine hopes of friends, might have failed to make him risk the hazard ; but the soldiers' talk had compro- mised his name, the troops at Aquileia had declared for A.D. 69-79. Vespasian. 143 him already, and he felt that it might be dangerous to draw back. The prasfect of Egypt, with whom Titus had intrigued already, took the first decisive step, and put at Vespasian's command his important province and the corn-supplies of Rome. The armies of Palestine and Syria rose soon after and joined the movement with en- thusiasm. Berenice, Agrippa's sister, who had long since gained the ear of Titus, helped him with her statecraft and brought offers of aUiance from Eastern princes and even from the Parthian empire. But Vespasian was still slow and wary. While Primus Antonius pushed on with the vanguard of his army from Illyria, not staying in his adventurous haste to hear the warning to be cautious, Mucianus followed with the main body to find the struggle almost over before he made his way to Rome, and was in Vespasian himself crossed over into Egypt to ^f^fuse^was take measures to starve his enemies into sub- won. mission, or to hold the country as a stronghold in case of failure. There he heard of the bold march of the van- guard into Italy, of the bloody struggle near Cremona, and of the undisputed march to Rome. Then came the tidings from the North-west that the withdrawal of the legions had been followed by a rising of the neighbouring races, and that even Roman troops had stooped so low as to swear fealty to the Gaul. The Britons and Dacians too were stirring, and brigands were pillaging the unde- fended Pontus. Soon he learnt that the Capitol had been stormed and his brother killed in the blind fury of the soldiers' riot, but that vengeance had been taken in the blood of Vitellius and his troops. Each ship brought couriers with eventful news, or senators coming to do homage, till the great town of Alexandria was thronged to overflowing. Still he stayed in Egypt, till at length he could not in prudence tarry longer, for Mucianus having set Antonius aside was in absolute command at Rome, 144 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 69-79. and his own son Domitian, a youth of seventeen, who had been left in the city but escaped his uncle's fate, seemed to have lost his head at the sudden change of fortune, and was indulging in arrogant caprices. Titus was with his father in Egypt till the last, and pleaded with him to deal tenderly with his brother's wilful ways, then left to close the war in Palestine, while Vespasian hastened with the corn-ships on to Rome, where the gra- naries had only food for ten days left, and Mucianus had been ruling with a sovereign's airs. Meantime the rising on the Rhine was quelled. It had its source in the revengeful ambition of Civilis, a Therebeiiion chicftain of the ruling class of the Batavi, Germany- ^'^^ ^^^^ ^wicc narrowly escaped with life its causes, from the charge of disloyalty to Rome. His people had long sent their contingents to serve beside the legions. Bold, brave, and proud of their mihtary exploits, they were easily encouraged to believe that they could take the lead in a national movement of the Germans. The frontier had been almost stripped in the excitement of the civil war, and the scanty remnants of the legions knew not which side to join, and had no con- fidence in their leaders. To supply the waste of war fresh levies were demanded, and the Batavi, stung to fury by the recruiting officers, listened readily to Civihs. They rose to arms, at first in Vespasian's name, and then, throw- ing off the mask, frankly unfurled the national banner, to which the neighbouring races streamed. The Treveri and Lingones tried to play the same part among the Gauls and to lead them too against the ini- eariy sue- P^^^^^ troops, who, half-hearted and mutinying cesses, against their leaders, laid down their arms or were overpowered by numbers. Some even took the military oath in the name of the sovereignty of Gaul. It was but an idle title after all. The mutual jealousy be- A.D. 69-79. Vespasian. 145 tween the several clans and towns barred the way to real union among them, nor would the Germans calmly yield to the pretensions of their less warlike neighbours. Soon, too, the tramp of the advancing legions was heard along the great highways, for, the struggle once over at the centre, no time was lost in sending Cerealis to restore order on the Rhine. The wavering loyalty of the Gauls was soon secured, and it scarcely needed the general's proclamation to re- mind them that the Roman Empire brought ^„^ ^^^^^^ peace and safety to their homes, and that even failure. if they could rend that union to pieces they would be the first to suffer from its ruin. To reduce the Batavi to sub- mission force was needed more than words ; but the strife grew more hopeless as their allies fell off, and such as still remained in arms were routed after an obstinate battle, in which a river's bed was choked with the bodies of the slain. The submission of Civilis closed an insur- rection, formidable in itself, but most noteworthy as an ominous sign of the possible disruption of the Empire. It was left for Vespasian on his return to heal the gaping wounds of civil war, to restore good order to the provinces, and to calm the excitement of Vespasian the capital after scenes of fire and carnage, ord^r ^t and the vicissitude of the last eventful year, Rome, which had seen three Emperors rise and fall. The city was beautified again, and rose with fresh grandeur from the havoc and the ruin. The temple on the Capitol was magnificently restored, and all the dignitaries of Rome assembled in great pomp to share in laying the founda- tion-stone. The temple finished, they were careful to re- place some at least of what had been destroyed within it. Careful search was made for copies of the treaties, laws, and ancient records which had perished in the flames, and three thousand were replaced, as in a national museum. A.M. L 146 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 69-79. But while pious hands were dealing reverently with the greatest of Rome's ancient temples the forces of destruction were let loose elsewhere, and prophecies of woe upon the Holy City of Jerusalem were nearing their The causes of ^"^filn^cnt. To understand the causes of the the insurrec- rising in Judo^a it may be well to glance at Judaea, and Rome's earlier relations with that country. tbilrof^the '^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ generals to conquer it was the Jews to great Pompeius, and it was on his forcible entry B.c!"63— iJ^to the Temple that attention was directed A.D. 66. ^Q ^j^g religion of a people who had a shrine seemingly without a god. Falling with the provinces of the East to the portion of Antonius, Juda?a was conferred by him as a kingdom upon Herod, and Augustus afterwards confirmed that prince's tenure and added fresh districts to his rule. For it was a settled maxim of his policy to draw a girdle of dependent kingdoms round the distant provinces, and gradually to accustom hardy races to the yoke of Rome. In the case of the Jews there seemed to be good reasons for this course. They were soon known to be a stubborn people, tenacious of their national customs, and ready to fly to arms in their defence. They were spread widely through the Empire, in the great cities and the marts of industry ; but men liked them less the more they saw them. They thought them turbulent and stiff-necked, and mutual prejudice prevented any real insight into national temper or any sympathy for the noble qualities of the race. It is curious to read in Tacitus the strange medley of gross errors about their history and creed — mxonstrous fancies gathered from malicious gossip or reported by credulous and ignorant writers. It is the more strange when we think that he must have seen hundreds of the men whose habits and beliefs he unwittingly misjudged, and one of whom at least wrote in his own days to enlighten the world of letters on the subject. At Rome the Jewish immigrants were looked upon witb marked disfavour. K A.D. 69-79. Vespasian. 147 Under Tiberius we read that thousands of them were forcibly removed as settlers to Sardinia, where if they sickened of malaria, as was likely, it would be but a trifling loss. In Judiea the caprices of the Emperors affected them but little, though they flew to arms rather than allow the statue of Caligula to be set up in their Temple. But hard times began when, under Claudius, the country passed from the dynasty of the Herods to the rule of Roman knights or freedmen. It was their mis- fortune to be exposed to the greed or lust of men as bad as the provincial governors of the Republic, while zealots, who mistook the times, were fanning the flame of national discontent. They bore with the a hasty vile Felix ; but at length the insolence of ^j^^jj^y^' Gessius Florus provoked a hasty rising, which spread spread rapidly from place to place, till the ^^'^^^^ "" whole country was in arms. The general in command of Syria could make no head against the insurrection, which carried all before it till the strong hand of Vespasian turned upon the Vespasia lan rebels with resistless force the stron^r endne ^as sent to r -r^ ,. . ,. o t> command the ot Roman disciplme. But the war which army, had begun in a hasty riot was persisted in with stubborn resolution. Towns and strongholds had to be stormed or starved into surrender, till the last hopes and fana- ticism of the people stood at bay within the walls of Jerusalem and the lines of the besieging legions. Two summers passed away while thus much was being done, and the third year was spent in further-reaching schemes of conquest, and the beleaguered city was left almost unassailed. It was at this point that t., • rT»' 1 r • 1 1 ne siege i itus was lett m sole command, eager to push Jerusalem forward the siege and to enjoy the sweets of Ykuslo'*" victory at Rome. But he had no easy task ^^^^• before him. The city, strong by natural position, was L 2 ii 148 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 69-79. A.D, 69-79. Vespasian, 149 1I fortified by walls of unusual breadth and height, and amply supplied with water. Within were resolute men who had flocked thither from all sides to defend the shrine of their The obsti- Hiost sacrcd memories and the stronghold of nate defence freedom, and whose fiery zeal swept every thought aside before their duty to their country and their God. There were also others more timid or more pru- dent, who better knew the force of Rome and feared the zealots' narrow bigotry. Thus mutual distrust and mutual slaucrhter weakened the forces of defence. After lone months of obstinate fighting discipline and skill prevailed and utter de- °^^^ ^^ logged valour of the Jews — the Holy struction of City was taken by storm, and the great Temple, the city and , ^ - . , , . temple. the One centre of the nation s worship, was AD. 71. utterly destroyed. It was said that Titus was grieved to see the ruin of so glorious a monument of art. He had no such tender feeling for his prisoners of war. The outbreak which Roman misgovemment had pro- voked had been already fearfully avenged. Jerusalem was left a heap of ruins, and its defenders were dragged in their conqueror's train, to die of misery and hardship on the way or to feed the wild beasts with their bodies at the amphitheatres of the great cities on the road to Rome. When the successful general returned to Italy it re- mained only to celebrate the triumph of the war, and the The triumph J^w^sh histoHan Josephus describes, as an after the cycwitness, the splendid pageant, which was Tcwish w^r as described One magnificent beyond all parallel. The by Josephus. procession of the day began at the Triumphal Gate, through which for ages so many conquering armies had passed along in pomp. The rich spoil, gathered from many a ransacked town, was followed by the long line of captives, the poor remains of the multitudes which had been carried off to furnish cruel sport for the citizens of Syrian towns. Then came the pictured shows that filled the kindling fancy with the memories of glory, strife, and carnage ; the battle scenes, the besieging hnes, the dread confusion of the storming armies, the sky all aglow with the blazing Temple, and streams of blood flowing through the burning cities. With each scene passed a cap- tive leader, to give reality to what men saw. Then came the sight most piteous to Jewish eyes — the plunder of the Holy Place, the sacred vessels which profane hands had feared to touch before, the golden table of the shewbread, the candlestick, which may be still seen portrayed, with its seven branching lamps, by those who pass beneath the Arch of Titus. After these came the images of victory, and then the ruling powers of Rome, the father with the two sons who were in their turn to succeed him. Hour after hour passed away as the procession moved in stately splendour through the streets. At last it wound along the Sacred Way which led up to the Capitol, and halted when the Emperor stood at the door of the great temple of Jupiter. While he waited there, the chief prisoner, Simon, the son of Gioras, was dragged off, with a noose about his deck, to the dark prison not many steps away. There was a silence of suspense while he was there buf- feted and slain; then the shout was raised that Rome's enemy was no more ; the last sacrifices of the day were offered in the temple by Vespasian, and all was over. The war thus closed was a legacy of Nero's rule, for the present government was one of peace. Happily the new Emperor was a man of different stamp from any of the Caesars who had gone before. There had -pj^^, been fearful waste of treasure, and the my and Empire needed a good manager who would tastes of husband its resources, and a quiet ruler who Vespasian, would soothe men's ruffled nerves. Vespasian was not a man of high ambition or heroic measures. Soldier as he was, he was glad to sheathe the sword ; but otherwise he : econo- ISO The Earlier Empire. a. d. 69-79. carried to the palace the habits of earlier life. He was simple and homely in his tastes, affected no dignity, kept little state, and had no expensive pleasure s. Much of the cruelty of previous monarchs grew out of their wanton waste. The imperial reven ue was small, and their extravagance soon drained their coffers ; to replenish them they had recourse to rapine or judicial murder. Vespasian saw the need of strict economy. To maintain his legions and the civil service, to feed and amuse a population of proud paupers, and to make good the ravages of fire and sword, he needed a full treasury, and there could be little left to spend upon himself. But for himself he needed little. He loved his httle house among the Sabine hills better than the palace of the Caesars ; drank his wine with keener relish from his old grandmother's cup than from gold or silver goblets; disliked parade or etiquette, and could scarcely sit through the stately weariness of the triumphal show. He mocked at the flatterers who thought to please his vanity by making Hercules the founder of his race; and unwill- ingly, at Alexandria, submitted to test the virtue of his imperial hands on the blind who were brought to him to cure, as in later days monarchs used to touch for the king's evil. Stories soon passed from mouth to mouth to show how he disliked luxurious habits. A perfumed fop, we read, came to thank him for the promise of promotion, but saw the great man turn away saying, * I would rather that you smelt of garlic,' and found his appointment cancelled after all. But as ruler he never seemed content. He said But he ixQTZi the first that he must have a vast sum raTsedl^"^ to carry on the government, and he showed large re- no lack of energy in raising it. Even at venue, Alexandria, the first city to salute him Empe- ror, the people who looked for gratitude heard only of A.D. 69-79. Vespasian, 151 higher taxes in the place of bounty, and vented their dis- gust in angry nicknames. Fresh tolls and taxes ^^^ .^^^^^^ were imposed on every side by a financier who new tolls was indifferent to public talk or ridicule, and ^""^ ^''"' shrank from no source of income, however mean or un- savoury the name might seem, if only it filled his coffers. Men remembered that his father had been taxgatherer and usurer by turns, and they said the son took after him, when they saw their ruler stooping to unworthy traffic, selling his favours and immunities, bestowing honours on the highest bidder, and prostituting, as they fan- cied, the justice of his courts of law. It and made was said that he employed his mistress, JJJJ^J^^y^j" Csenis, as a go-between in such degrading ways, at business, and that he allowed his fiscal agents ^^l^,^^ ^ade to enrich themselves by greed and fraud, step- merry, ping in at last to take the spoil, and draining them like sponges dry. The wits of Rome of course amused themselves at his expense, and told their stories of his want of dignity. A servant one day asked him for a favour for one whom he called his brother. The Emperor sent at once to call the suitor to him, made him pay him down the sum which he had promised to his friend at court, and then when the servant came again to ask the favour said in answer, * Look out for another brother, for he whom you call yours is now mine.' Another time a deputation came to tell him that a town had voted a costly statue in his honour. ' Set it up at once,' he said, and, holding out the hollow of his hand, ' here is the base all ready to receive it.' There was, indeed, nothing royal in his talk or manners. He freely indulged in vulgar banter, and was never, it is said, in a gayer mood than when he had hit upon some sordid trick for raising money. Of such tales many, perhaps, were mere idle talk, the spleen of men who thought it 152 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 69-79. A.D. 69-79. Vespasian. 153 hard to be called upon to pay their quota to the expenses of the state. The money was certainly well used, however it was gotten. Government was carried on with a strong though But the thrifty hand, and peace and order were every- wei"7seTfor ^^'^^^^ sccured. Liberal grants were made to public cities in which fire and earthquake had made ODlGCtS 1 havoc ; senators were provided with means to support their rank, and old families saved from ruin by timely generosity. The fine arts and liberal studies were encouraged ; public professorships were founded and endowed out of the Emperor's privy purse. Nor were the amusements of the people overlooked, though his outlay on this score seemed mean and parsimonious as compared with the extravagance of Nero. It was the He was free great merit of Vespasian that absolute power louTyS ^^^ hail that was fast falling. The fleet neared the shore, where the frightened families had piled their baggage ready to embark ; but the hot ashes fell upon the decks, thicker and hotter every moment, and, stranger still, the waters seemed to retire from the beach and to grow too shallow to allow them to reach the poor fugitives, who strained their eyes only to see the ships move off, and with them seemingly all hope of succour. The volcanic force was doubtless raising the whole beach and making the sea recede before it. But Pliny was not to be dis- couraged, and landed finally at another point, where a friend had a villa, on the coast. Here he bathed tran- quilly and supped and slept till the hot showers threatened to block up the doors, and the rocking earth loosened the walls within which they rested. So they made their way out on to the open beach, with cushions bound upon their heads for shelter from the ashes, and waited vainly for a A.M. M l62 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 79-81. A.D. 79-81. Titiis. 163 fair wind to take them thence. Pliny lay down to rest beside the water, while the sky was red with fire and The death of the air loaded with sulphureous gases ; and Redder when his slaves tried at last to lift him up A.D. 79. he rose only to fall and die. By a curious irony of fortune the student, whose great work is a sort of encyclopaedia of the knowledge which men had gathered about nature, chose the unhealthiest spot and the worst posture for his resting-place, while his ignorant servants managed to escape. For the waves were charged with sulphur that escaped from the fissures of the rocks, and the heavy gas, moving along the surface of the earth, was most fatal to those who stooped the lowest. Meantime at Pompeii the citizens first learned their danger as they were seated at the theatre and keeping ^, ^ holidav. The lurid sky and fallincr showers 1 he scene at ' -' " Pompeii, drove them to their homes. Some hurried thither to seize their valuables and hasten to be gone out of reach of further risk ; some felt the ground rock beneath them as they went and were crushed be- neath the falling pillars ; others sought a refuge in their cellars, and found the scoriae piled around their dwellings. Hot dust was wafted through every crevice ; noxious gases were spread around them ; and thus their hiding- place became their tomb. Hour after hour the fiery and various showers fell and piled their heaps higher and d'^'"h°^d higher over the doomed city, while a pall of ruin. darkness was spread over the earth. Then the hot rain came pouring down, as the sea-waters, find- ing their way through fissured rocks into the boiling mass, were belched forth again in vapour, which con- densing fell in rain. The rain, mingling with the scoriie, formed streams of mud, which grew almost into torrents on the steep hillsides, and poured through the streets of Hcrculaneum, choked up the houses as they passed, The survi- vors re- turned and partially rifled the houses of the city. then rose over the walls, till an indistinguishable mass was left at last to hide the place where once a fair city stood. Weeks after, when the volcano had spent its force, some of the citizens of Pompeii who had escaped came back to see the scene of desolation, guessed as tliey best could the site of their old homes, dug their way here and there through any hole which they could make into the rooms, to carry off all the articles they prized, and then they left the place for ever. Time after time since then the struggling forces have burst forth from the mountain, and the volcanic showers have trace again fallen and covered the old city with a thicker disappeared, crust, till all trace of it was lost to sight and memory. After many centuries it was discovered by accident, and the work of clearance has been slowly going forward, constantly enriching the great Museum at Naples with stores to illustrate the industrial arts of ancient times, and restoring to our eyes a perfectly unique example of the country town of classical since^cof-*^^^ antiquity in all its characteristic features. ^^"^'^• At Herculaneum there has been less done, and there is more perhaps to be looked for. It was a More to be resort of fashion rather than a market-town, I^^t^nfrcu- was more under Greek influence, and, there- laneum. fore, had a higher taste for the fine arts than Pompeii ; and above all it does not seem to have been rifled by its old inhabitants, from whose eyes it was hidden probably by thick coats of hardened mud. M 2 164 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 81-96. A.D. 81-96. Domitiaii. 165 Hf) CHAPTER XL DOMITIAN. — A.D. 81-96. During Domitian's early years his father Vespasian was hiding in disgrace. He lived in a little house at Rome Domitian's SO meanly furnished that it had not a single early life, piecc of silver plate, and his straitened means may possibly have tempted him to vice, as the scandalous stories of later days asserted. He first at- Vacted public notice when his father headed the move- ment in the East, but Vitellius still left him unmolested. There was danger, however, from the fury from the ^"^ of the soldicrs, and he took refuge with his soldiers. uncle Sabinus on the Capitol, to see the fortress stormed and the defenders slain. He escaped from the massacre in disguise, and lurked for awhile in the house of a poor friend in a mean quarter of the town. But succour was near at hand, and the vanguard of his father's army not only brought him safety but raised him suddenly to unlooked-for greatness. The change was fatal to his modesty and self-control. He aired at once all the insolence of absolute power, Sudden gave the rein to his sensual desires, and turner his bestowed all the offices of state at his caprice, head. Vespasian even wrote in irony to thank him for not appointing a successor to himself. The arrival of Mucianus, the vicegerent of the Emperor, put some check upon his license ; but it needed all the statesm.an's authority and tact to temper the arrogance of the head- strong youth. The crisis on the Rhine was pressing, and tliey set out together for the seat of war, but all was over before they reached Lugdunum; and Domitian, detained from going further, is said to have sent fruitless messages to tamper with the fidelity of Cerealis. If he had ever seriously hoped to raise himself to the level of his brother he had quite failed, and he had gone too far to meet his father's eye without misgiving. To disarm the anger that he dreaded he feigned even folly and took to hunting flies, for the often-quoted jest of Vibius Crispus, that there was no one, Kept in ' not even a fly, with Caesar,' belongs more f^ge V"*^' probably to this than to a later time. Thanks Vespasian, to his father's tenderness or the entreaties of his brother, he suffered nothing worse than warning words ; but Ves- pasian watched him narrowly henceforth, kept him always by his side, trusted him with no public functions, and flatly refused to let him lead the forces which the Par- thian king had sent to beg for in return for his own proffers of support. But by this time Domitian had learnt to bide his time and to be patient. He hid his chagrin at being kept thus in the leading-strings of childhood, and took to poetr>', coquetting with the Muses in default of graver duties. At Vespasian's death, however, the old temper broke out afresh. At first he thought of outbidding he ill-re- Titus by offering the soldiers a bounty twice ^e"nderniS as large, but wanted nerve to appeal to force ; of Titus, then he complained that he was kept out of his rights, as his father's will had named him partner in the imperial power, and to the last he tried the long-suffering tender- ness of Titus by moody sullenness and discontent, and possibly even by plots against his life. His brother's death soon removed the only obstacle to his ambition and the only restraint upon His power of his will. But, strange to say, wanton and .'ffirTlT'"' headstrong as he had been before, he now Emperor, exerted a rare faculty of self-restraint, as if he were 1 66 The Earlier Empire. a.d. 81-96. A.D. 81-96. Domitian. i6y weighted with the responsibility of power and wished to win and to deserve the popularity of Titus. He spent some time in quiet every morning to think over his course of action and to school himself for the duties of the day. He saw that justice was the first requisite of and wish to social well-being, and he spared no effort rule well. to sccurc it. In the law courts he was often to be seen listening to the pleadings and the sentence given. The judges knew that his eye was on them, and that it was dangerous to take a bribe or show caprice. Even in distant provinces the governors felt that they were closely watched, and never, it is said, did they show more equity and self-restraint than in this opening period of Domitian's rule. His treatment of another class showed a like spirit. The rise and fall of the informers had ragedTn-"' been a sort of weather-gauge of the moral formers, atmosphere around. Since Nero's death the bolder spirits in the Senate had tried under each Emperor in turn to bring the false accusers to the bar of justice. The leading Stoics had come forward smarting with the memory of the friends whom they had lost, full of indignant eloquence against the blood- hounds who had hunted them to death. The infamous names of Marcellus, Crispus, Regulus called out an explosion of revengeful sentiment. The Senate even went so far as to ask that the old notebooks of the Emperors might be produced to furnish evidence against the men they hated. But little had been really done, and men thought they traced the malign influence of Mucianus in screening the criminals from attack. Titus had driven them away in disgrace ; but now perhaps they were creeping, like unclean things, out of their hiding- places to study the new sovereign's temper. They could not be encouraged by the words that dropped from him : * The prince who fails to chastise informers whets their zeal;' nor by the penalty of exile fixed for the accuser who brought a charge of defrauding the treasury or privy purse, and failed to make it good. He tried next to meet a growing evil of the times that was significant of misrule. He announced that ^nd legacies he would receive no legacies save from the '^ himself, childless, and quashed the wills made out of vanity or ostentation to the prejudice of the natural heirs. Not content with such reforms, he tried to give a higher moral tone to the social life of the and tried to great city, to check the license of the thea- J^orluone of tres, to discourage indecent pasquinades, society. and raise the respect for chastity and moral ties. Had he only ruled as short a time as Titus he would have borne as fair a character in history, and he would seemingly have deserved it better, for he grasped the reins with a firmer hand and wished to merit rather than to win his subjects' love. How was it that so fair an r^j^^ proba- opening was so sadly clouded, or whence tie causes of , , , , . . - , . the marked the change that came over the spirit 01 his change of rule ? In the meagre account of ancient tamper, writers we find no attempt made to solve the problem. But we may see perhaps some explanation in the events that happened at the time. One thing was .,,,,, r • I- His com- wanting still, the laurel crown of victory, to piete failure raise Domitian to the level of his brother, as a general. In an evil hour he coveted military glory, and set out for Germany, where a pretext for war was never wanting. But, high as was the order of his talents, he had neither the general's eye nor the soldier's courage, and his heart failed him when he drew nearer to the enemy. The German expedition ended as it began in plundering a few poor villages, and in pom- pous proclamations to the army and the Senate. But A.D. 84. i68 The Earlier Empire, a.d 81-96. A. D. 81-96. Domitiafi, 169 II A.D. 86. far away towards the Danube there was the sound of the real crash of war. Decebalus, at the head of his Dacian hordes, was an enemy worthy of the most skilful generals of Rome. Bold, fertile in resource, and skilled in all the fence of war, he had drilled and organized a formidable power, which for years tried the mettle of the Roman armies. Hither also came Domitian to gain his laurels, and here too his courage failed him. He stayed in the rear away from all the fighting, while his legions, badly led, were driven backward in disgrace. Unwilling to return without striking a blow to retrieve his tarnished fame, he hurried to Pannonia to chastise the Marcomanni for neglecting to send him succour in the war. But thither also he was followed by his evil star. Instead of the submission that he looked for he found a vigorous defence; he was ensnared and routed by an enemy whom he had thought to find an easy prey. Sick of war and of its dangers, he came to terms with Decebalus without delay ; and rare as it was for a Roman leader to conclude a war after defeat, he was glad to pur- chase peace at any cost, and to give not money only but tools and workmen to teach the Dacian tribes the arts of civihzed life. He could not face his people with the confession of his failure, so lying bulletins went homeward to the Senate to tell of victories never won and to disjniise the history of the campaigns. Honours and thanks- givings were voted in profusion. The imperial city and the provincial towns accepted the official story, and raised with dutiful joy triumphal statues to their prince. But the truth leaked out, of course, and Domitian re- turned to Rome an altered man. He read mockery in the eyes of all he met, detested their praises as gross flattery, yet resented silence as a censure. He gave costly entertainments to the people, but with a gaiety 2. Conspi- racy against him. so forced and a mien so changed that men spoke of them currently as funeral feasts, till at last he took them at their word, inviting the senators to a strange parody of a supper in the tombs, and played with grim humour on their fears. While he was in this capricious mood another event served yet further to embitter him. Antonius, a governor upon the Rhine, be- gan once more the fatal game of civil war. Though he was soon crushed and slain, and his note- books burnt, to compromise no partisans, yet the sus- picious fears of Domitian were not to be lulled so easily, and he fancied universal treachery- around him. The plot was the motive or excuse for an outburst of vin- dictive feeling, which would not stay to wait for proofs, but grew ever more relentless the faster his victims fell. Like some half-tamed animals we read of, he needed to taste blood to reveal to himself and others the ferocity of his feline nature. One further cause perhaps there was— a frequent one with vicious rulers— to tempt him to yet further evil. This was simply want of money. The fruit- 3 ^Vant of less expenses of the wars, the heavy price he money. paid for peace, the lavish outlay to keep up the farce and put the populace in good humour — these had drained the coffers which Vespasian had filled, and which the easy prodigahty of Titus had already emptied. At first he was minded to economize by reducing the strength or number of the legions ; but he feared to weaken the thin line of border armies, and in his present mood he saw a readier way to fill his treasury— the old, old story of these evil times. Fines, confiscations, and judicial murders, became once more the order of the day, Hisnume- coloured at times by various pleas, but often ^"^^^ victims. too by none at all. He talked of conspiracies and trea- m I/O The Earlier Empire, a..d. 81-96 sons till his morbid fancy saw traitors everywhere around him ; his suspicious fears settled at last into general mis- trust as the hatred of the world grew more intense. The Philosophers were among the first to suffer. Rusti- The Phiio- cus and Senecio died for their outspoken reve- sophers. rence for the great martyrs of their Stoic creed, and many another suffered with them, till by one sweep- ing edict all were banished from the city and from Italy. Philosophy did not, indeed, make conspirators, but he feared its habits of bold speech and criticism, as modern despots are intolerant of a free press; and he looked with an evil eye at men who would not stoop to Caesar- worship, as persecuting Churches would trample out Dissent. Among those who were brought before him at this time and banished with the rest one name is mentioned Apollonius t^^t "^^y stand apart, that of Apollonius of ofTyana. Tyana. He was, it seems, a wandering sage, so renowned for sanctity and wisdom that a band of admiring scholars grouped themselves around him, and were glad to follow him from land to land. Strange legends of his unearthly power gathered in time about his name, and words of more than human insight were re- ported to feed the credulous fancy of the world. In the last phase of the struggle between Pagan and Christian thought the figure of Apollonius was chosen as a rival to the Jesus of the Gospels, and his life was written by Philo- stratus to prove that the religious philosophy of heathen- ism could show its sermons, miracles, and inspiration. These were hard times for earnest thinkers ; they were not encouraging for men of action. Military prowess and The gene- success were too marked a contrast to the juHus humbling disasters on the Danube to meet Agricola. with much favour from the Emperor ; but there were few generals of renown to try his temper. Julius Agricola is prominent among them, because the A.D. 81-96. Domitian, 171 skilful pen of Tacitus, his son-in-law, has written for us the story of his life. His just, firm rule as governor of Bri- tain, the promptitude with which he swept away the abuses of the past, the courage with which he pushed his arms into the far North and brought Caledonia within the limits of his province, form a bright page in the annals of this period. But they gave little pleasure to his jealous sovereign, who eyed him coldly on his return to Rome, and gave him no fur- ther chance of service or of glory. He lived a few years more in modest dignity, without a word of flattery, yet not desirous to court a useless death by offensive speech. When he died men whispered their suspicions of foul play, but the Emperor, who was named among his heirs, accepted gladly the token of his respect, forgetting his own earlier principles, or that, as the historian tells us, ' only a bad prince is left a legacy in a good father's will.' But though he feared serious thought and action, the lighter charms of literature might perhaps have soothed the moody prince. In earlier days Literary he had turned to poetry for solace, and men. the sad Muses, whom he had courted in retirement, had, as Juvenal tells us, no patron else to look to than the Domitian who had just risen to the throne. But the Emperor read little else himself besides the memoirs of Tiberius, and the writers of his day had but scant cause to bless his princely boun- . ties. Martial, with all his ready flow of sparkling verse, his pungent epigram, and witty sallies, had a hard life of it enough at Rome, and was reduced to cringe and flatter for the gift of a new toga or a paltry dole. Statins, well read and highly gifted as he was with fluency and fancy, found it easy to win loud applause when he read his Thebaid in public, but gained little by his ingenious compliments and con- 1/2 The Earlier Empire, a.d. 81-96. Juvenal. Tacitus. ceits as poet laureate of the court, and had not means enough at last to find a marriage-portion for his daughter. Juvenal's appeal in favour of the starving Muses met seemingly with no reponse, and disappointment may have added to his high-toned vehemence and studied scorn. It was no time certainly for Tacitus to write without partiality or fear, and the condensed vigour of his style, its vivid por- traiture and power of moral indignation might have been lost wholly to the world had not another Em- peror come at last to combine monarchy with freedom. Meantime Rome had grown weary of the bloodthirsty mania of its ruler, who loved to pounce with stealthy suddenness upon his victims and to talk of mercy when he meant to slay. It was the rich, the noble, the large- Domitian hearted who suffered most in this reign of assassinated terror, and it was left to his wife and freedmen by his wife . x-- t • - and freed- to cut it short. Fmdmg, it IS Said, a note- '"^"' book in his bed, and in it their own names marked down for death, they formed their plans without delay. It was in vain that Domitian was haunted by his warning fears, that he had his porticoes inlaid with polished stone to reflect the assassin's dagger ; in vain he sent for astrologers and soothsayers to read the future; he could not be always armed against the enemies of his own household. The conspirators surprised him alone in an unguarded moment and dispatched him with many wounds, though he struggled fiercely to the last. 173 CHAPTER XII. THE POSITION OF THE EMPEROR. After studying the lives of the early Emperors in some detail it may be well to call attention to the marked pecu- liarities of the position which they filled. 1. Henceforth the Emperor is virtually the sole source of law, for all the authorities quoted in the codes are embodiments of his will. As magistrate The Emperor he issued edicts m. accordance with old usage jf^ virtually " the source of in connexion with the higher offices which he law: held, as did the praetors of earlier days. When sitting judicially he gave decrees ; he sent fnandates to his own officials, and rescripts when consulted by them. He named the authorized jurists whose responses had weight in the nice points of law. Above all, he guided the deci- sions of the Senate, whose Se?iatus constdta took the place of the forms of the republican legislation. 2. He was called on also to interpret law, either im the ordinary course of his functions when he served as yearly magistrate, or as the high court of , . . f. ** he inter- appeal from the sentences of lower tribunals, prets^Uie or through the Senate, which became a court of judicature for large classes of trials and looked con- stantly for imperial guidance. We read often in the lives of the earlier rulers of the unremitting care with which they took part in such inquiries. 3. As the head of the executive the Emperor must enforce the law. Most of the officials soon and enforces became his nominees, though a few of the j^. as head of J . ' ° the execu- dignined posts were filled up with some show of tive. free election in the Senate ; but the master of the legions 174 The Earlier Empire. Position of the Emperor. 175 holds the power of the sword, and cannot share it with others if he would. The power so expressed was unique in kind. It ex- tended over the whole civilized world, over all the cities of historic fame and all the great nations of Hu power unique in antiquity. It rcstcd upon an overwhelming *" ' military force, and was met by no threat of physical resistance from within. Nor were there control- ling influences to be counted on such as monarchy has commonly to face. Of political assemblies without check or the ^^o^^y^\^^x C07mtia passed speedily away, and balance. ^^ Senate became the instrument of his will, consisting chiefly of his nominees, and never asserting the right of independent action. There was no power of privilege to face him, such as orders of nobility and cor- porations have claimed and held in other states. There was no powerful civil service or bureaucracy, such as can thwart while seeming to obey, and afford a potent but impalpable resistance even to a despot's will. There was /no sentiment of public morality or national pride that he might not dare to outrage, for the people of Rome were a mixed rabble, swollen rapidly by slaves who had gained the boon of freedom, and recruited from every race under the sun. The men of dignity and moral worth might frown or shudder when Caligula played mad pranks and Nero acted on the public stage ; but their displeasure mattered little if the populace were merr>' and the army loyal. Religion itself had no counteracting force, for at Rome it was a matter more of formal observ^ance than of moral faith. It was not organized in outward forms to balance the authority of the civil power, and by a curious anomaly the Emperor was at once the highest functionary of the state religion, as supreme pontiff, and was also soon to be deified and to become the object of the veneration of the world. kji It was a system of unqualified despotism, without ministry, nobles, church, or parliaments, such as it is impossible to parallel, such as was likely to produce the best and worst of governors, according as men were sobered by the responsibihties or maddened by the license of absolute power. From the imperial will there was no escape. The Em- peror might and did commonly observe the constitutional forms and act on the sentence of the courts of .t^, Inere was law, or he might dispense with such tedious no escape formalities and send a quiet message to bid a Empe^ror's man set his house in order or let his veins be P^wer, opened in a bath. A few soldiers could carry the death- warrant to the greatest of his subjects in a far-off land, and execute it in the midst of his retainers. There seemed no hope of flight, for only barbarians or deserts lay beyond the Roman world. But in return there was no escape for the Emperor himself. He could not weary of the cares of state and lay his burden down in peace. There was no cloistered calm for him like that which Christian princes have sometimes found. ?Ie could not abdicate in favour of his natural successor; he must rule on, to b.ejthe mark for the dagger of every malcon- tent and see a 'possible rival and successor in every great man or military chief. The Emperor's power, again, was based on physical force. It rested on no sanctions of religion, noble birth, immemorial usage, or definite election, for it was of revolutionary origin and took its very title from the power of the sword. Yet after Julius the early Emperors were not men of war, and had no military policy or ambition. They had everything to lose and nothing seemingly to gain from war. The balance of the Empire might be lost while the chief was on the distant fron- nor for him. His power was based on military force, but . his policy was com- monly not warlike. 176 The Earlier Empire. tier, and a successful general might prove a dangerous usurper. They seldom even saw the armies, for these were far away upon the borders, and at home there forcV ^ *" was so little need of armed repression that needed. ^ handful of the city watch and a few thou- sand of the household troops sufficed for the police of all the central countries of the Empire. Municipal self-rule kept the towns contented ; and though the nationalities had lost their ancient freedom they seldom showed a wish to strike a blow to win it back. In Rome itself the old nobility was little to be feared. They had no power- ful following of clients or retainers, no rallying cry nor hold upon the imaginations of the masses; and their feelings might be outraged, their fortunes pillaged with impunity, if only the populace could be kept in cheerful humour and the prsetorians and legions did not stir. CHAPTER XIII. THE RIGHTS OF ROMAN CITIZENSHIP. The vast multitudes gathered within the walls of Rome were a motley assemblage of every class and race. War, proscription, and imperial jealousy had ofRomrr^ thinned the numbers of the old families of mixed race. ^yxx^ dcsccut, and many of the great historic names had already disappeared ; but early under the Ke- public complaints were made by the Itahans that the attractions of the capital were draining the country towns of their inhabitants, and for centuries there had been a steady The Rights of Roman Citizenship. I'j'j influx of provincials of every race ; while the slaves of the wealthy households, gaining frequently their freedom after a few years of bondage, passed into the class of libertini^ and left children to recruit every order of the state. There were still differences of legal status left between the children of the full citizen and of the freed slave, but the hues that parted them became gradually fainter. But in what did the status of the citizen consist, and how far did the Empire modify the rights and privileges of the franchise '^. Of the civil law we need not speak. The rights of family life and property were specially de- termined by the old Jus Privatum and only slowly changed by an admixture of equity and^prm-'^ from the Praetors' Edicts, and by an infusion ^^s^^- of the wider spirit of Greek philosophy. The political privileges of citizenship were more directly modified. 1. Of these the earliest and most distinctive, the right of voting in the popular assemblies, became an idle form and passed away. After a few years the j .jussuf- Comitia ceased to meet to pass laws or elect fragii. magistrates, for no representative system had been de- vised to collect the votes of millions scattered over the municipia of the whole Empire, and no statesman could regret the loss of the turbulent meetings of the Roman rabble which had disgraced the last century of the Re- public. 2. The jus honoriun^ or right to hold official rank, was still real and valued. It had not been an integral • part of the Roman franchise in the earliest ^ j^^ days of the distinction between the patres honomm. and the plebs. It did not always go with it in later times, for we read in Tacitus the speech of Claudius in the Senate when some of the nobles of Gallia Comata pleaded for the right of office. 3. The right of appeal to the popular assembly, or A.H. N 178 The Earlier Empire. provocatio ad popiilian^ in capital trials, was a highly- 3. Right of prized defence against the magistrate's caprice, appeal. securcd by the Valerian law, enlarged by the veto of the tribunes, and reinforced by the Sempronian \law of C. Gracchus. But the Emperor now stepped into the place of both tribune and Comitia; he was the high ' court of appeal, and from him there was no flight. 4. The security from personal outrage or bodily chas- tisement which the Porcian laws provided had empha- 4. imniu. sized the difference of dignity between the nity from Roman and the Latin, and continued in im- personal . . 1 • 1 violence. perial days to be the constitutional right of every citizen, of Paul of Tarsus as of the inhabitants of Rome. 5. The power of voluntary exile, of leaving Rome be- fore trial in the law-courts or the Comitia, to live in some allied community, became meaningless from I 5- J"^ "''"• this time. The Emperor's hand could reach as well to Rhodes or to Massilia as to Tibur or Aricia, and the exiles of whom we read henceforth had been ' banished to inhospitable rocks for the most part by the sentence of the Senate or the courts, or sometimes by a message from the palace. 6. Freedom of speech and writing had been left large, but not unrestricted, by the Commonwealth. Scurrilous lampoons had been made penal by the Twelve of speech"" Tables, and the jealousy of an oligarchy dealt and writing, harshly now and then with petulant criticism. But orators in the Forum and the law-courts used the utmost license of invective. Augustus was careful at the first to do little to abridge such freedom, and to let men find in talk the safety-valve of passionate feeling. But when his temper grew soured with age, and the Empire seemed more firmly planted, he became more jealous of his dignity, and the formidable * Laws of Treason' were ex- The Rights of Roma7i Citizenship. 179 tended to cover words as well as acts. Spies and informers started up to report unwary utterances and garble social' gossip. The praises of a Cato or a Brutus might cost the historian his life, an epigram against a favourite be avenged by his imperial master, and Lucan be driven to conspire when his verses had given umbrage to the tyrant. There was as yet no censorship of the press, no means of seizing some thousand copies of a journal before it had . appeared for sale, no way of warping or poisoning the ^ public mind by official lies and comments. Yet such freedom as was left lived by suff"erance only, and des- potism needed only more spies and agents and a more centralized machinery to be terribly oppressive. 7. Religious liberty was little meddled with as yet. Polytheism is naturally a tolerant and elastic creed, and a niche might be found for almost any deity j^^jj j ^^ in the Pantheon of the Roman ruler. Atheisrn fiberty.^'°"* itself was safe, for the state religion was a matter of forms and observances rather than of thought. If jealousy was shown towards any creed or worship by the states- men, it was towards such as were exclusive and aggres- sive, like the Jewish and the Christian, leading, as they seemed to do, to turbulence and disrespect for estab- lished powers ; or towards such as were linked with sacerdotal claims, like that of the Druids, which might foster national memories and come between the masses and the Roman rulers ; or towards such as seemed of too extravagant and mystical a type, outraging sober reason or acting as hotbeds of secret societies and clubs. 8. The right of meeting was largely used under the Republic. The contioiies or mass-meetings of the streets were addressed by every great party leader g. Right of in his turn, and no government had tried to assembly, put them down, except when they met by night in secret or led to open riotings. More permanent unions, called N 2 i8o Tlie Earlier Empire. partnerships, clubs, guilds, and colleges, were freely formed, and most of these were recognised by law, and only interfered with when, at the end of the Republic, their machinery was thought to be abused by political wirepullers and electioneering agents. Warned by such experience, the earlier Caesars looked at such clubs with a watchful and suspicious eye, put down the newly-formed and barely tolerated the older. They feared, it seems, centres of attraction for the discontented, and secret societies that might meet under cover of a harmless name. But before long the restrictions were relaxed. Inscriptions show that vast numbers of such unions existed all over the Roman Empire, claiming on their face a legal sanction, connected with every variety of trade and interest, and recruited mainly from the lowest ranks— often, like the provident clubs of later times, with occasional meetings for good cheer. Formal history is almost silent on their humble interests, but the monu- mental evidence is full and clear. 9. The citizens of Rome claimed and enjoyed one further privilege, which the franchise did not elsewhere Ri ht to ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^^- '^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^° ^'^^^' food!^ ^ ° From early ages the Government had bought up large quantities of corn to distribute freely or below cost price, or had fixed a maximum of price in harder times. C. Gracchus was the first to systematize the prac- tice and let every- household have its monthly allowance from the state at a sum far below its value. This was to be the Roman's salary for the trouble of governing the world. The step could never be retraced, though Sulla tried in vain to do so ; the price was even lowered, and the corn was at last freely given. The first Emperors saw the dangerous effects of this— the discouragement to honest industry, the temptation to the idle and improvi- dent to flock to Rome, the burden on the treasury of the Life in the Provinces. 181 state— but they dared not give it up, lest the malcontents should find a rival and a rallying cry ; so they were con- tent to scrutinize the claims and reduce the number to the narrowest limits and to confine it to the poorer of the inhabitants of Rome. It was in this seemingly unlike our Poor Law system, that it did not at first at least imply as a matter of course { the extremest poverty, for a noble Piso came, we read, to ( take his dole, saying that if the state was so reckless with its money he would have his share with the rest. It was unlike the French Socialist's ' right to labour,' urged of late years with so much vehemence, for it set a premium on vicious indolence and made the Romans the pen- sioners of the world. CHAPTER XIV. LIFE IN THE PROVINCES. The Repubhc had bequeathed to the imperial govern- ment the greatest possible variety of pohtical conditions throughout the different provinces. As in ^^^^^ personal status there were many intermediate variety of positions between slavery and full Roman s°atus1nthe citizenship, so there were many stages of pri- provincial vilege and power between a humble village large amount community and the mistress city. During of^eif-ruie. her long period of conquest Rome had never tried to act on any uniform system. As state after state had been annexed she allowed the conquering general, with the help of a commission or instructions from the Senate, to define the political conditions of the countr)'^, and to lay down the lex provincice. The object of 1 82 The Earlier Empire. Life in the Provinces, 183 this was mainly to fix the amount of tithe and tribute, to map out the countries newly won into assize districts for the courts of justice, and to give or to withhold special privileges in the case of those who had been most marked as friends or foes. But the Roman statesmen were . always tolerant of local customs, and had no wish for uniformity of system. They broke up, indeed, the poli- tical unions or federations which had been strong and might still be dangerous, but they respected the old forms of national life, and let their subjects manage their affairs for the most part as they pleased. Each country lived its separate life, with varying usages that had been slowly shaped in the course of ages, and every part of it enjoyed a large measure of self-government. Where the towns were all-important, as in states affected by Greek and Latin culture, there the old names and institutions lin- gered undisturbed. In Gaul the tribes kept something of their federal character, and the old name for the capital of each union outlived in many cases the one of Roman \ origin, as that of the Remi lives on still in Rheims. In Egypt the political unit was the Nome, and the laws of Ptolemy were still respected, as those of Hiero were in Sicily. The old Greek names of Archon and of Demarch often lingered on beside the official titles that were of Latin source. The cities of the highest rank were Colonice or Municipia^ whose citizens had either carried with them to new homes or enjoyed by special boon the privi- leges of the full Roman franchise. To this class belonged all the towns in Italy and Sicily and some few in the provinces. Next in order came the towns of Latin rights unconnected usually with the Latin race, but promoted to the rank which Rome's nearest neighbours and allies had ■ once enjoyed. Here and there, too, were privileged cities enjoying by the bounty of Rome the rights of freedom and immunity from taxes as guaranteed by special treaty, and called on that account free or federate cities. Below these came the mass of stipendiary towns, subject to tax and tithe at the discretion of the Roman rulers, but administered by their own magistrates and little meddled with by the central government. Around each of these were often grouped a number of villages^ cantons^ hamlets, called by various names, and more or less de- pendent on the central town, of whose territory they formed a part, and by whose magistrates they were ad- ministered. Sometimes, too, wilder mountain regions were annexed in this way to the nearer towns, through which a civilizing influence might be brought to bear upon their ruder neighbours. In general, however, there was no marked distinction between town and country life, as landowners and farmers were grouped together for mutual defence, and lived within easy reach of the community whose civil rights they shared. The ancient writers seldom speak directly about social life in any town but Rome. It lay outside the plan of formal history ; its details were too well known to call for comment, and the national comedy, i-Jnceln which must have thrown most light upon it, is Ih^^^fe oV° now quite lost to us. The literary men could the provin- not live happily save in the capital. Though Juvenal speaks with bitterness of the trials of the poor client's life, yet he still trudged wearily about the streets to pay his court to his rich patrons, and kept his garret rather than move to the healthy country towns where hfe was cheap. Martial spent thirty years of meanness . as a needy parasite of fashionable circles, catering for \ their appetite for scandalous talk, and selling for a paltry \ dole his wit, his gaiety, and his licentious fancy ; and when he went at last to his little town in Spain whose calm he had long sighed for, he spoke of it with disgust / 1 84 The Earlier Empire. and weariness, and longed to be back at Rome again. Statius, again, grew tired of the city, where in spite of his poetic fame he could only get a miserable pittance by dwelling on the virtues of Domitian, and he determined to go back to his native Naples ; but his wife was deaf to all his praises of the country, and preferred the Suburra and the crowded streets to the baths of Bais and the beauties of the charming bay. We cannot expect, there- fore, to find in these writers much about the course of that provincial life which was so distasteful to them. Our knowledge on the subject is drawn mainly from the Fuller inscriptions on stone and bronze of which so thetnscrip- many have been found in different countries, tions. From this source we may trace the efforts made to regulate the condition of the municipia, and to fix some uniform principles for the government of the most favoured communities throughout the Empire. Thus, fragments have been found of what was probably the Lex Julia Mtmicipalis, passed to regulate the choice of town councils and their magistrates. Two other laws found near Malaga a few years back date from Domitian, and go still more into detail about the constitutional features of the Spanish towns, from which they take the name of Leges Salpensana and Malacitana. Much may be learnt also from the funeral inscriptions, though in- deed we should not glean much information of the kind from the graveyards of our own times. But the old epi- taphs seldom fail to note the local titles and honours of the dead, and tell us much incidentally of the nature of their rank and offices that would be otherwise unknown to us. To these, too, must be added the formal eulogies, the votes of honour, the thankofferings and words of dedi- cation, the records of the guilds and corporations, which, after being buried from sight and thought for ages, have been found in course of time in a rapidly increasing / Life in the Provinces. 185 store. A whole city, too, Pompeii, has risen from the grave, to show us not merely the houses and the streets in which men lived and died under the early Empire, but the words even which their hands had traced, sometimes in stately inscriptions on their public monuments, some- times in advertisements roughly sketched upon the walls, ; sometimes in the scribblings of schoolboys or the care- \ less scrawls by which the idle whiled away their time, and wrote out for all to read the story of their jests and loves and hates. In the towns of the highest class the powers of ad- ministration were vested in a few magistrates, who held office only for a year. The chief of these Thetxecu- filled the place of the consuls or prcXtors duumvJi^''' of old times, and were styled from their juridicundo; judicial functions diitimviri juri diaitido, being also presidents of the town councils. Below them were the two cEdiles^ who, as at Rome, had a variety of police functions and the care of the streets, markets, and public monuments. Sometimes the com- prehensive term qiiattuor viri juri dicundo was used to include both of the classes above named. There were also in the larger towns two qucEstors to be treasurers of the public funds and control the statements of accounts. It was usual to take the cen- sus every five years throughout the Empire, and in the days of the Republic it had been the duty of the censors to preside over the work, and to carry it through with becoming ceremony and religious pomp. The Emperor took the censor's place at Rome, and no special officers or commissions were appointed for the purpose in the provinces, but the duumvirs of the year were charged to make all the entries of personal and real estate within the course of sixty days, and to send copies of the registers to the central record office. To mark the importance of sediles ; quaestors ; 1 86 The Earlier Empire. the functions the honorary term of quinqjiennalis was quinquen- added to the official title of duumvir, and na'es. as such appears often on the funeral in- scriptions. It was the more prized as it carried with it also the duty of drawing up the list of the town council- lors, as the censors had to do for the Roman Senate. The council, or ordo decuriomim^ consisted of the ex- The town magistrates and others of local dignity and ""ordodl^uri- wealth, subject only to a few conditions stated onum. in the municipal laws that have been found, such as those which shut out from office convicted thieves and bankrupts, or men engaged in trades regarded as dis- creditable, like the gladiator, auctioneer, and undertaker. A minimum of age and income was also fixed, but it was one that varied at different times and places. A lucky accident has preserved for us the album decurionum, or roll of the town council of Canusium. At the head we find a number of titular patrom, for it was the usage of the towns to connect themselves if possible with members of influential families at Rome, who might watch over their interests, and also to confer the honorary name on the most eminent of the local notabilities. At the end of the register came the names of some prcetex- iati^ or young men of high family, who were allowed to be present at the meetings of the council and train themselves for public life by hearing the debates. The councillors themselves managed most of the affairs of public interest, voted their local taxes, controlled the expenditure of their funds, made grants for public build- ings, conferred honours, immunities, and pensions, and watched over the ceremonials of religion. But the popular assemblies of the citizens had not Popular yet, as at Rome, become a nullity. In the stuf met'for inscriptions we can still read of the votes that business. had been passed * with the approval of the people.' The municipal laws of the two Spanish towns. Life in the Provinces. 187 which may be fairly taken as types of the whole class, give full details of the mode in which the magistrates were named in public and voted for openly in all the city wards. The election placards posted on the houses of Pompeii show that the popular contests were very real and the excitement strong. At times even the women longed to air their sympathies ; and though they could not vote they scrawled the names of their favourite candidates upon the walls. Sometimes party spirit was carried to such dangerous lengths that the Emperors were called upon to interfere and name a special prasfect to take the place of the magistrate who could not be chosen peacefully. If these municipal offices were hotly coveted it was only for the honour and not for any substantial advantages which they carried with them. Their holders guch offices received no salaries, as did the agents of the wereburden- ' 111 • some rather imperial government, nor had they lucrative than lucra- patronage at their disposal. Their main ^^^^• privilege was rather that of ruining themselves to please the citizens. They had first to pay a sort of entrance- fee on taking office ; they had to regale the populace on the day after their election with at least cake and wine, and often with more costly fare. The town coun- cillors too expected a state dinner on a lordly scale ; a present of varying amount was looked for by the mem- bers of every guild and corporation, and often by the citizens in general. The people grumbled bitterly if they were not amused by shows of gladiators or well-ap- pointed plays. To secure re-election it was often need- ful to spend great sums on public works, such as roads, aqueducts, and temples ; and, finally, to win the grati- tude of future generations men often willed away large sums, the interest of which was to feed, amuse, or shelter for all time the citizens of the favoured town. In the less privileged communities throughout the l88 The Earlier Empire, provinces there was more variety of conditions, for the Greater old institutions lasted on with the same names conduTons in ^^^ many of the same forms as before the the less Roman conquest. The agents of the central towns, and government had a larger control over their amount of actions, especially in matters of finance and self-rule. jurisdiction, and their consent was needed in all questions of moment. But they were too few in number to look much into details, and the towns retained everywhere a large measure of self-government. Municipal freedom prevailed perhaps more widely than at any other period. Local senates met in council, _ , ,. . . magistrates were chosen by popular election. Public spint J . . , - -^ , . , . ' and munifi- and patriotism, though confined within nar- cence. ^^^ range, was still intense. The inscrip- tions which are found in every part of the old Roman world, as well as the ruins of the great works which here and there are left, show us how real and widespread was the public spirit. The citizens vied with each other in their outlay for the public good. Temples, aqueducts, baths, theatres, guildhalls, triumphal arches rose on all sides, not at the expense of the whole society, but by the beneficence of the wealthy and the generous. Augustus set the example first, and urged his friends and courtiers to make a show of munificence in public works, and other Emperors were anxious to add to the pomp and brilliancy of the imperial regime. The weal- The attrac- thy and the noble copied the fashion of the Roman ^^^X* "^l^ich Spread from Rome to the furthest culture. provinces, from the city to the village. But the spirit of imitation reached much further. Roman life was a centre of attraction for the world, and exerted a levelling and centralizing influence before which local usages and manners passed rapidly away. The ruder races were drawn irresistibly towards the customs of Life in the Provinces. 189 their conquerors. Their own chiefs tried in vain to check the movement. Roman pride put barriers in their way, and agreed at times to refuse the franchise and the speech of Italy to the new-comers, but in vain. The leaven of the Roman culture spread among them, and their national usages and laws and even their language tended rapidly to disappear. The wiser Emperors respected jealously the local Hberties and traditions, and had no wish, in the first century at least, to carry out a uniform system. But Roman influence spread through many channels. The legions, as they passed along the roads or remained encamped upon the frontier, acted on the men with whom they were in daily contact. The traders who followed in their train carried with their wares the speech, thought, and customs of the central city. The governors and financial agents who came direct from Rome brought the newest fashions with them to dazzle the higher circles of the country towns, and gave the tone to social inter- course. The journals of Rome, or acta as they were called, were read in far-off provinces ; the latest epigram passed from mouth to mouth ; the finest passages of the orators of note, the latest poems of a Martial, travelled either in the governor's train or were dispatched in re- gular course of trade as literary wares to the provincial , booksellers. * As at Rome, the lower orders soon learnt to expect amusements ready-made, looked to the wealthy and munificent to give them shows and costly The liberal spectacles, and grumbled at their magis- "J'jJ^rf'^^ trates if they were not liberal enough, or if ened the they seemed to think too much of what they io"caiTovem- gave. But commonly they were ready with ^ent. their thanks; and if the largess had been generous and if the gladiators died with becoming grace, the grateful people passed a vote of thanks, or made the council pass 190 The Earlier Empire. it, decided to erect a statue in their benefactor's honour, but, as the inscriptions tell us, often let him pay for it himself Liberalities such as these must have materially lightened the expenses of the local government. With no salaries for the chief officials and no costly civil / service to keep up, no schools nor paupers to maintain out of the rates, and with so many examples of muni- ficence among the citizens, the burdens of municipal taxation could not have been heavy. The towns had commonly some revenues from lands or mines or forests ; religion was endowed with its own funds, and the claims of the imperial treasury were moderate. At the end of the Republic the burdens caused by war and confiscation, the merciless exactions of the General govemors, and the cancer of usury had well-being. spread bankruptcy and ruin throughout the j provinces ; but in the course of the first century of the Empire peace and order and settled rule had caused a widely- diffused comfort ; the freedom of self-govern- ment secured contentment ; and public spirit, feeble as it seemed in the ruling city, was lively and vigorous else- where. \ ! The great boon of the imperial system to the world was the higher conduct of its agents as compared with Juster rule that of the proconsuls and propraetors of the provincial Republic. They were paid high salaries di- govemors. rectly from the state ; they needed not to ruin themselves by bribery and shows to win their places; they were watched by a financial agent of the govern- ment, and liable to a strict account at Rome before the Emperor, who had no interest, like their peers, in their acquittal. It is true that if we think only of the numerous cases of extortion and misrule which we meet with in the pages of Tacitus we may believe there is little proof of better Li/e in the Provinces, 191 things. But the evidences of juster rule are real and solid. Oppression had been scarcely thought a stain upon the characters of the statesmen of the Republic ; ^ .^ 1 T 1111 Evidences but now even the sensualist and debauchee of improve- often seems to change his nature when he is "^^"*' weighted with the responsibilities of office. Petronius, Otho, and Vitellius redeem in part the infamy of earlier days by their clean-handed integrity in the purer air of a provincial government. The very frequency of the trials for misrule, which may startle us at first, is in itself a proof of the watchfulness of the central power, which was as vigilant with Domitian as with Augustus. The abuses of ages could not be swept away at once, and it must have needed time and vigour to convince men that the Empire was in earnest in the matter. The provincials them- / selves soon recognized the difference, and tlieir literature / speaks far more strongly on the subject than the Roman. Philo the Alexandrian, Josephus the Jew of Palestine, 1 Strabo the geographer of Pontus, Plutarch the Greek, I Epictetus the Phrygian philosopher, bear emphatic witness / to the higher spirit of equity and moderation in their i rulers. Countries not long subjugated show no wish to ' assert their freedom, though the legions stationed in their midst are mainly recruited from their own inhabit- ants, and become fixed to the soil which they defend and strangers to the Emperor whose name they bear. The results, too, speak loudly for themselves. The impoverished cities of Asia raised themselves at once when the incubus of the republican governors ^^^ ^f ^eal was removed. There, as in other countries, prosperity. the inscriptions abound in eviden ce of real prosperity The cities adorned themselves with stately buildings ; the rich, no longer afraid to show their wealth, used it with lavish generosity. Trade flourished once more when the roads were cared for and brigandage and piracy put 192 The Earlier Empire. But no guarantees i>f perma- nence in freedom and good govern ment. down. Commercial guilds spread themselves over the world, and even the provident unions of the humblest classes gained a recognition and a sanction from the state. Men looked only at the present, and forgot that there were no guarantees of permanence in the municipal free- dom and happiness now enjoyed, no lasting gain in the absorption of so many distinct centres of national culture, nothing to give dignity and independence to the provinces, as the federal or national unions had done ; no security that the cautious, easy, and tolerant government of the present would not be gradually changed into the grinding machinery of a centralized despotism. They thought of their material blessings, and forgot the moral qualities that should make them lasting. They looked back with a feeling of relief at the turbulence of former days, at the evils done and suffered in the name of liberty, and felt with Dion Chrysostom, ' Our fathers fought, as they be- lieved, for freedom, but really for a phantom of the fancy, like the Trojans who fought in defence of Helen when she was no longer within their walls.' Thus it was in no mean spirit of flattery that they raised in every land statues and altars to the Emperors, to some even of the vilest who have ever ruled. Of their personal characters they often knew but little ; and though dark stories of what had passed at Rome may have circulated awhile among the higher classes in the provinces, yet the people knew next to nothing of their vices and their folHes, and thought of them chiefly as the symbol of the ruling Providence which throughout the civilized world had silenced war and faction and secured the blessings of prosperity and peace, before unknown. 193 CHAPTER XV. THE STATE OF TRADE. To appreciate the influence of the Empire upon the interests of commerce it is needful to look back to some of the facts and feelings of earlier days. The The early Roman writers speaks commonly with dis- P^'empt for ^ ^ industrial favour and contempt of the handicrafts and art at Rome, retail trades, and the common sentiment which they re- flect seems to have grown more intense in the later ages of the Republic, at the very time when the tendency to- wards democracy became more marked. While the hardy life of the old yeoman was the ideal of the moral- ist and patriot, the work of the artizan or tradesman was a lasting stain upon a family name. This was due probably in part to the warlike and aggressive spirit of the old Roman policy, which relied chiefly on its husbandmen and shepherds to fill the ranks of its militia, due to the while the industrial arts fell into the hands of ^/J^l?'"' the needy homeless aliens who were attracted fostered, to the city and could not serve among the freemen in the armies. The growing contempt for the v/eaker races of Greece and Asia heightened the dislike for the trades they filled and the work which they monopolized. But above all the vast influx of slave labour that followed the career of conquest supplied living tools for every need, made manual work seem servile, and rapidly drove free labour out of every field. The bffux^of tendency extended even from the industrial ^^^^ ^^^°"''' to the fine arts, and to some even of what we call the learned professions. The great Roman households had highly-educated slaves, who were trained to amuse their masters and to satisfy their cesthetic tastes. In old time 194 The Eai'lier Ejnpire. The State of Tirade. 195 The con- tempt ex- tended to professions and the fine arts. Fabius Pictor had gained a name for skill in paint- ing, but it would have been a discredit in a later age ; and Pliny tells us of one of gentle birth who was mocked at and insulted for taking to the art. Roman dignity, says the same writer, will not stoop to practise medicine, but leaves it to the Greek and freedman. Slaves were trained to be actors on the stage; and much as the Romans loved spectacles, they could not themselves act without disgrace, ex- cept in the old Atellan farces, which, says Livy, were never polluted by professional actors. Education was mainly in the hands of aliens and freedmen, who kept schools under the name of gram- marians or rhetoricians, and the same classes also sup- plied the copyists, librarians, and secretaries whose useful labours furnished the materials that were worked up by literary men of note. But while the Romans disdained retail trade and manual labour, they had not the same dislike for com- mercial enterprise upon a larger scale. Soon after the Punic wars we may trace the rapid growth of a class of great speculators and contractors, who belonged chiefly to the second order of the state, the Equites^ and whose objects were more financial than political. They followed the movements of the conquering armies, engaged to supply the commissariat, formed Growth of joint-stock companies for every variety of merchant Undertaking, farmed the revenues of the capitalists, lands annexed to the Roman empire, pro- fited by the monopolies of commerce when the old federal unions were broken up and trading intercourse was suspended between the members, and came for- ward as moneylenders to advance the sums to be paid down in indemnities or confiscated by the governors' Disdain of retail trade did not ex- find to com merce on a larger scale. greed. At home they lent their money to the bankers, or bought up lands in times of cheapness, like Pom- ponius Atticus, or had their slaves highly educated in industrial arts, or speculated in building-land, like Crassus. But their energy was of little profit to the world, nor did it further the legitimate interests of trade. It enriched Rome, or a few hundreds of its citizens, but it impoverished the provinces. It made ^^^ wealth change hands : but it did not stimulate riched them- IT-* production or facilitate exchange or promote out' benefit* the growth of peaceful enterprise. The in- to the world, fluence of the moneyed aristocracy upon the central government had long been very great ; and if trade had not been the gainer for it, it wa.s not from lack of power on their part, but of will or insight. They could make their resentment felt by the few proconsuls who were cleanhanded themselves, and who would not stand by and see wrong done. They could protect in the Roman courts the more criminal and unscrupulous of their body. They could in their shortsighted jealousy strike down great commercial rivals, as in the case of Carthage, Corinth, and / Rhodes; but they do not seem to have raised their voices/ to protest while war was destroying or weakening so many distinct centres of civiHzation and production throughout Italy, while injudicious taxation and bad poor-law systems were injuring industry, and sumptuary laws discouraging consumption, while roads were made rather for the transport of armies than for the interchange of products. They were never so strong a power in the state as towards the close of the Republic, when the corsairs swept the seas and organized themselves almost as a belligerent power, while on the mainland runaway slave-bands and professional brigands were infesting the highways. We may now turn to trace the action of the Em- O 2 196 TJie Earlier Einpire. pire upon these conditions. When Augustus was finally seated in his place, it was his first aim to Empire did sccuic the highroads of commerce, and to for trade. maintain safety of intercourse throughout the Roman world. He put down brigandage with a strong hand, appointing special officers to do the the roads work and armed patrols to maintain peace and seas, ^^^ order. Inspectors visited the factories and farms in country districts, where the slave-gangs toiled in chains, restored to liberty many who had been kidnapped by violence, and returned to their masters some thirty thousand runaways. The highways were made safe for quiet travellers, though the satires and romances still speak of. brigands from time to time, just as they are brought occasionally upon the modern stage. On the seas, too, piracy was put down, and almost banished for centuries from the Mediterranean, though in the Black Sea it was still a matter of complaint. It was a greater boon to trade that war was confined mainly to the frontiers, among the scarcely civilized neighbours of the Empire. After wrrt"o^the Ncro's death, indeed, great armies tramped frontiers, across the central countries, spreading havoc and desolation in their track, but with this exception the soldiers were confined to border camps, and no fatal check was given by the horrors of war to peaceful enter- prise and industry. By a series of further measures the Empire did its best to remove checks and hindrances to the activity of removed a commcrcc. The careful survey and census variety of q£ ^^ Roman world under Augustus was one checks and *^ hindrances, step to prepare the way for equalized taxa- tion, and it was followed by others as important. Fi- nancial agents were watchfully controlled ; legalized tariffs of the tolls and dues were made stricter to resist vexa- TJie State of Trade. 197 tious overcharge, while the courts of law administered more impartial justice between the official and the common subject. The old sumptuary laws which aimed at check- ing luxury and extravagance were given up after a short trial and regarded as a mischievous anachronism. The endless variety of monetary systems which delayed easy intercourse between land and land soon ceased to incon- venience the world. Many of them disappeared, others were kept for local use or retail trade ; but by their side one uniform standard was set up, and beyond all the various national coinages the imperial currency was the legalized tender which appears henceforth in official docu- ments in all parts of the Roman world. Still more direct was the influence on sentiment which affected the social estimate of industrial art. Slavery had been the formidable rival of free labour ; but the countries which in earlier times had diminished supplied the most serviceable tools were Jjjg s^^^f ^f now annexed, and only an outer fringe of slave labour, barbarians was left to supply the slave markets by wars of conquest. The Northern nations furnished less pliant and docile labourers, whose work was far less lucrative than that of Greeks and Asiatics. As the sources of supply were being cut off, the fashion of enfranchisement set in, and the slave-born were set free so rapidly that laws had to be passed to check the growing custom. At the very time when the compe- tition of slave labour was reduced, less scope was left to enterprise in what had been before absorbing interests. The old game of war gave fewer prizes, and lessened the the soldier's life seemed likely to be hence- c^'^pe^^'O'^ - -' 01 war ana lorth one of monotony and patient drill, politics. The statesman's career was less tempting to ambition when the show of talent mit^ht be dangerous and stir the jealousy of C^sar. The laurels of the orator soon faded 198 The Earlier Efnpire. The State of Trade, 199 when power passed out of the Senate's hands, and when the pleadings of the law-courts had no influence on the course of public life. But in the place of these interests of the Republic the early Emperors had tried to foster industry and learning. Julius gave the grant of citizenship to all The Em- ^^^^ would practise liberal professions ; Au- perorsfa- gustus encouraged literary labour through hi'ghe? ^^^ Maecenas ; and Nero, the artist-prince, weak- branches of gj^g^j ^^ qIjJ sentiment in other branches. industrial r 1 r v art. In short we soon lose all traces ot the teeling which prompted Cicero in his public speeches to disguise his familiar knowledge of the culture and the arts of Greece. The currents of national sentiment could no longer flow in separate channels, as men of every people flocked to Rome. In Asia handicrafts and indus- E!ister"n ^ ° trial labour had never been despised, and the sentiment. gradual infusion of Eastern thought weakened the supercilious pride of Western prejudice. Something too was directly done by Augustus to give a higher status to the industrial classes. A new office and badge of dignity was devised by the appointment of Jta^us gilYn the ' Masters of the Streets,' a large number to industrial q£ whom were taken from among the artisans through the and frecdmcn of the city, to discharge cer- ^^^ItH tain police duties, and also to minister as vicorutn. priests in the little chapels raised in honour of the Genius of Rome and of the ruling Emperor. Guilds answering to this office spread, under the name of Augustales, through the towns, and helped to give organized force and self-respect to retail trade and manual labour. It is still, indeed, a striking fact that there is no / reference in Latin hterature to any history of trade ; nor do we hear of special treatises connected with the subject, though the works on agriculture were many. Nothing is said of the moral benefits of international commerce ; nor, careful as the Romans were about statis- tics, did they connect them with the balance litefal^" of supply and of demand. Yet under cover of "°^'*^^ ^ ^^^' . . system of the imperial res^ime a vast system of free trade free trade began to flourish, such as the world perhaps °""'* ^ ' has seldom known. Merchant fleets passed peacefully from land to land and exchanged the products of their different climates, while the central government was content to keep the police of sea and land, allowing tolls and harbour dues to be levied for purposes of local revenue, and watching over the corn trade with especial care, that the markets of the capital might be always stocked. But this trade was hampered with no theories of pro- tection, and was not interfered with by commercial or navi- gation laws The vast population gathered in one city re- quired, of course, an enormous retail trade upon the spot ; but there were few manufactories upon a large scale near Rome. The necessaries of life came largely from the South and West, the luxuries from the East, while indus-/ trial wares were brought for the most part ready-madej, owing to the greater cheapness of labour in other coun- tries. The balance of trade was always against Italy, for she failed to supply herself trade against even with food, exported little beside wine ^'*'^' and oil, and had few great manufacturing centres. In old days the riches that had been gained by plunder and ex- tortion went out again to seek investment in the pro- vinces ; but now that Rome was the queen of fashion and the centre of attraction for the wealthy of all countries, the realized fortunes came thither to be spent. The productive centres and the hives of industry were to be found in other lands — at Alexandria, which Strabo calls the greatest emporium of the world ; at the flourishing marts of trade among the isles of the vEgean ; or among 200 The Earlier Empire, the hundred cities of Asia Minor, whose industrial demo- cracies had soon recovered from the pillage and mis- government of republican proconsuls, and enjoyed a mag- nificent prosperity, with which no other land could vie. CHAPTER XVI. THE GROWING DEPOPULATION OF ITALY AND GREECE. Among all these evidences of material well-being there were ominous signs to catch the watchful eye. The ^ . queen of cities had clothed herself in pomp The ominous , , , , , -n ^ signs of de- and splcndour ; and stately villas, parks, population. g^j^^ pleasure-grounds were spread over the country ; but Italy herself grew poor in men, in moral energy, and in natural products. The culture of Greece had made its way over the world ; but her cities of re- nown were sadly dwindled, and scanty populations lived among the ghosts of former glories. The heart of the ^ ^ , Empire was growing more feeble, though Strabos , . . ° ■, r^ \ 7 account of the extremities were sound. Strabo, who ureece. travelled in Greece early in this period, gives in his geography a melancholy list of ruined and deserted towns, ^tolia and Acarnania were exhausted ; Doris has no trace of her ancient peoples. Thebes was a poor vil- lage cowering within the walls of the old citadel ; and save Tanagra and Thespiae in all Boeotia there were only pauperized hamlets. Messenia and Arcadia were deserts. Laconia had not men enough to till it, and seventy of the hundred townships of old times were quite abandoned. As early as the days of the historian Polybius it was observed that Italy could no more put into the field Depopulation of Italy attel Greece. 201 notices the diminishing military force of Italy. The Gracchi. PI liny, such forces as she raised in the second Punic war, and that not for lack of manhood but of men. Poiybius The Gracchi not long after called public notice to the fact of the decreasing numbers of free labourers in the countr>^, and tried to check the evil by sweeping changes in the tenure of land. Again in the first years of the Empire complaints mingled with alarm are heard on every side. Livy speaks with wonder of Rgn^ark f the armies that fought in old time upon Livy, the battlefields of Latium, and says that in his day only a few slaves tenanted the lands that were once the home of so many hardy warriors. Pliny tells us of more than fifty towns in Latium alone that had passed away and left no traces, and of the ruins of old peoples that the traveller found in ever}^ part of Central Italy, Dion Cassius mentions the djo^ * terrible depopulation' which Julius Caesar Cassius. noted with concern, and the difficulty which Augustus found in levying troops to fill up the void made by the loss of Varus and his legions ; while Pliny tells us of the grief and wounded pride which the same Emperor felt when he enlisted slaves in place of free men. The stress which Augustus laid upon the remedies which he applied shows how urgent seemed the evil. He reduced, and would have limited still further Attempts of had he dared, the number of the paupers on ^1^1^^ *° the free list of the state, to check if possible evil, the drain upon the public funds and the great dis- couragement to industry. He drafted off his veterans into colonies and bought them lands in ever}' part of Italy to recruit with healthy labour the decaying imini- cipia. He provided an outlet even for the city populace, supplying them with land in settlements beyond the sea. Finding among the higher and middle classes a wide- 202 The Earlier Efnpire. spread dislike to the burdens of married life, he tried to bring legal pressure to bear upon the morbid sentiment, enacted civil disabilities against those who would not marry, and various privileges for those who had given legiti- mate children to the state. The laws Papia Poppasa were passed in the teeth of serious opposition ; but, as we have seen, it was a current jest that the consuls whose names they bore were bachelors themselves ; and Plutarch tells us that many married, not to have heirs but to become heirs themselves, since they could only receive legacies on that condition. What causes had brought about this ominous decline in numbers.'' 1. The career of Rome had been one of constant warfare. The obstinate resistance of the ^quian, T,, Volscian, and Sabine races gave a formi- JL lie Causes of decline. dable check to the laws of natural increase. X. War. J J. ^^g Jqj^^ before Italy recovered the fearful waste of life and means caused by the Punic struggles. To gratify the ambition of the ruling classes, to gain fresh lands for them to rule, the bones of the Italian yeomen were left to moulder in every country to which the conquering eagles made their way. The losses in the Social War alone are set down in the lowest estimate at three hundred thousand men, and are raised by some writers to a million. But, exhausting as was the constant drain of life, it was not too great perhaps for nature's forces to resist if others had not come also into play, whose influence lasted on when the Empire enjoyed at length a period of peace. 2. The landowners of Central Italy had been long unable to compete with the corn-growers of foreign lands. The stores of Sicily and Africa had been poured into their markets; the tithes paid in kind had been brought to the capital in natural course ; governors had sent large quantities to be sold below cost price at 2. Change from peasant proprietors to large estates, with slave labour. Depopulation of Italy and Greece. 203 Rome to keep her populace in good humour. Carriage by sea had proved cheaper than that by land over bad country roads, and free trade and the policy of the government together ruined the corn trade of the husbandmen of Italy. The small proprietors or yeomen could no longer pay their way or hold their land, and were bought out by the capitalists who sought investments for wealth gained in subject countries. The small farms gave place to the great holdings of the rich, the Matifundia qus perdidere Italiam,' the vast domains which were the bane of Italy. Pasturage superseded tillage, and slave labour took the place of free. A few wild herdsmen and shepherds wandering at large, with here and there a slave-gang labouring in chains, was all that could be seen in districts that had once been thickly set with thriving villages. 3. Slavery was doubtless wasteful of human life. In the Campagna of Rome, as in many other parts, un- healthy influences must have been always ^ ^^^^^^ near at hand, and malaria had to be met was wasteful and combated. It was less dangerous when ° land was tilled and drained, and the constant experience and traditional remedies of the hardy natives enabled them to lessen or survive the evil. But slaves drawn from far-off countries, knowing nothing of the climate and its laws, guarded often by reckless taskmasters and crowded in the unwholesome cells of the crgastula or work- houses, were less able to resist the ravages of pestilence, which spread faster as pasturage took the place of arable ground. For a time the loss of hfe was easily supphed from slave markets like those of Delos, where, as we read, fifty thousand human beings often changed owners in a single day; but they grew dearer as the boundaries of the Roman world included more subject races, and the voids were no longer easily or profitably filled up. \/ 204 The Earlier Empire. \ 4. The free population that had been driven from the fields betook themselves to the army or the city. 4. Attraction ^^^ ^o\t.s of com, the frequent largesses, of to\vn life the shows and gaieties attracted to the agementsto crowdcd strccts and alleys thousands who industry. were too indolent to work but not ashamed to beg, and who could contribute nothing to the pro- ductive energies of the world. The country towns copied Rome as far as their means allowed, and attracted the idlers and improvident who lived upon the bounty of the rich. The veterans who had been sent out as colonists to settle in the deserted regions wearied often of the irksome restraint of the unwonted work, mortgaged or sold their httle farms, and gradually came back to swell the numbers of the dissolute and needy populace, and lived as paupers on the pittance of the state. 5. To these causes must be added the untoward influence of luxur}^, profligacy, and crime. Polybius noted ^ „ the physical effects of the foreicrn customs 5. Influence ^ "^ ° of vice and that were spreadmg fast among the young profligacy. ^^^ ^^ ^^ ruling classcs, and pointed to it as a symptom of decline. The moralists and satirists of later days were full of passionate complaints of the luxury which they saw around them. These rapid changes broke down the moral safeguards of the past and gave free vent to morbid appetites. The spread of ease and license discouraged honest industry and weakened hardi- hood and strength of body. The sumptuous mansions of the wealthy, the fishponds, bird-farms, and deer-parks which reared luxuries for Roman tables, absorbed unpro- ductively the capital which might have maintained mul- titudes of thriving husbandmen and turned all Italy into a garden. The riches of the world had been poured into the coffers of the ruhng classes, but with little benefit to their own country, which grew poorer, while large Depopulation of Italy and Greece. 205 sums flowed yearly back to pay for the costly wares and delicacies of foreign lands. Pliny, as a patriot, laments the steady drain of money caused by the silks and jewels and spices of the East. But moralists said less of what called for far severer censure. Infanticide was widely prevalent, sometimes in the form of the destruction of unborn life, but more commonly in the exposure of the newly-born. It rested with the father to decide if he would rear his child, and custom sanctioned the usage of exposure, though early laws had tried to limit it to mon- strous births. The discretionary power was put in force most frequently in the case of female children, and pass- ing references in literature show that they were often victims. Private charity sometimes reared the found- lings, and the inscriptions bear witness to the number of such cases, and leave us to imagine how many were ex- posed. Polybius had specified this among the causes of the dwindling numbers of the Greeks. Tacitus notes that the Germans looked upon the act as criminal; but he does so probably to point a moral, and is thinking of the vice of Rome. Still the usage lasted on under the Empire, and the Christian Tertullian brands the heathen of his day with the infamy of the practice then continued. In the Eastern provinces the usage was less prevalent. Sometimes religious senti- ment discountenanced the practice, and often the spread of the industrial spirit and the vigour of productive energy gave a stimulus to the increase of numbers. Material well-being was diffused among the teeming populations of the commercial towns in Asia Minor, while the patriot mourned over increasing poverty in the western cities of the Empire, and the statesman had to recruit the legions from the nations most re- cently annexed. 206 The Earlier Empire. CHAPTER XVII. THE FRONTIERS AND THE ARMY. The limits of the Roman world in the first centur}' of the Empire were well defined by natural boundaries. It The frontiers Spread from the Atlantic on the west to the well defined, Euphrates in the east. The Rhine and the oc secured and accepted Danube formed its northern frontier ; while byAugustus. ^^ sandy deserts of Arabia and Africa parted it from peoples almost unknown. It had been the special work of Augustus to provide an effective barrier against the races of the North ; and at the cost of hard fighting, and after many dangerous campaigns, Pannonia, Nori- cum and Msesia were finally subdued and the Roman arms were carried to the Danube. Nearer home the tribes that held the passes of the Western Alps were crushed after obstinate resistance, and many thousands of them sold into hopeless slavery, that the great roads leading to Gaul might be secured. In Germany tribe after tribe had been attacked, and Roman influence had been pushed forward to the Elbe ; but the whole country rose in arms to crush Varus and his legions, and the boundary again receded to the Rhine. No attempt was made at conquest in the East. Even Armenia was left in seeming independence, and the captured standards of Crassus were recovered from the Parthians not by force but by diplomacy. Towards the south attempts were made to march into ^Ethiopia and Arabia Felix, but heat and drought alone were enough to baffle the intruders. Such were the frontiers finally accepted by Augustus, and recommended by him to his successors. In them, with one exception, no great change was made until the time The Frontiers and the A rmy. 207 of Trajan. But Britain, which had been only visited by Julius Cffisar, was further attacked, explored, and finally subdued in a series of campaigns dating specially from the times of Claudius, Nero, and Domitian, and thus furnished a sort of training school for the best generals of the early Empire. It was part of the policy of Augustus to leave a fringe of dependent j^^ ^^^^^ kingdoms in the countries most recently kingdoms annexed, leaving the peoples for a while to the forms of native rule, subject only to the payment of tribute or supply of soldiers. Of these the monarchy of the Herods furnished a well-known example, and many others are known in Syria, Cilicia, Cappadocia, Thrace, and Mauretania. But one after another, as kings died or dynasties decayed, these little kingdoms also disappeared ; governors were sent to administer in Roman fashion, and the work of organizing went uniformly on. Diplomacy and intrigue also were constantly employed nStic'?ifa"- beyond the borders ; treaties were formed ^^°"^- with neighbouring monarchs to give an excuse for frequent meddling ; dynastic quarrels were fomented ; shelter was oflered to princely refugees, and future rulers trained in Roman arts and letters. This po- licy was specially employed in dealing with the chief- tains of the German clans and with the kings of the far East, and possible enemies were thus changed into friends or weak dependents. The early Caesars prided themselves upon the success of their diplomatic arts, took credit for it in their speeches to the Senate, and stamped in this way a pacific character upon the policy of the Empire. For indeed, if we except the terrible crash of civil war in the poitcy^o? the year 69, the peace of the Roman world Empire, was scarcely broken for a century. A few border forays on the Rhine had their source in the wanton folly 208 The Earlier Empire. of weak rulers who thought to win a httle glory upon easy terms. The Dacian war upon the Danube was left, after a few campaigns, for Trajan's energy to close; the national uprisings in Gaul were crushed with little effort ; and in their guerilla warfare with the African Tacfarinas the Roman generals were only pitted against a brigand chief, who had to be tracked and hunted like a wild beast to his lair. Only when opposed to the desperate energy of Jewish fanatics and the untamed tribes of Britain were they called upon to cope with enemies who seriously tasked the resources of generalship and discipline. For the most likely rivals of the Emperors were the leaders of their troops. Of these the most adventurous were recalled often in their hour of triumph or warned to advance no further, and must have sighed, like Corbulo, ' Happy were the generals of olden time ! ' for they were allowed to go on and conquer. Pacific as was the imperial policy of Augustus in his later years, he had for the first time set up a standing The stand- army, and the forms in which he organized it were long left undisturbed. On the Rhine eight legions were constantly on guard, di- vided between the higher and the lower pro- vinces, and the defence of the northern frontier was further maintained by six more, who were stationed in Pannonia, Dalmatia, and Ma?sia. Four held the hues of the Euphrates, two were needed for the care of Egypt, the granary of Rome, while an equal number held the rest of Africa. Three more were kept in Spain, some of whose wilder tribes had been but lately brought into sub- jection. These legions, twenty-five in all, were attended in the field by auxiliary forces of about equal numbers, bearing the names and national character of the races that sent their separate contingents to the field. The chief stations for the fleets were at Misenum and Ravenna, on either coast of Italy, besides which the har- ing army of Augustus, and the sta- tions of the legions and fleets. The Frontiers and the A rmy. 209 hour of the Colonia Forojuliensis (Frejus) was chosen by Augustus to receive some of the ships that fought at Actium. A few thousand men, nine cohorts of the praetorian guards, and three of the urban watch sufficed for the police of Rome ; and elsewhere through the whole interior of the vast dominion no garrisons were needed, and the tramp of armed men was seldom heard upon the great highways that ran through the old countries of the Empire. The legions themselves were seldom moved from the frontiers to which they were attached, but remained in permanent encampments, engaged in an unvarying round of military drill. Near the cantonments settled the traders, camp followers, and various classes nearly connected with the soldiers, and many an important town of later days derived its origin, and sometimes even its name, from the camp in the close neighbourhood of which it grew. The legions were recruited ^j^^ legions from the border provinces, often from the recruited very countries where their camp was nxed. distant In time many ties connected the soldiers pi'o^i^ces with the peoples amongst whom they lived. Most of them had never ev^en seen Rome or the Emperor whom they served. How strong an influence was exerted by the Empire on the imaginations of the peoples, and how substantial were believed to be the benefits of union, is found in the fact that so few efforts were seriously made to assert a national independence and call the native soldiery to rally round it. For the temper of the legions was in the main loyal and steadfast. The statues and effigies of the ruling monarch were commonly in the camp the objects of unquestioning reverence, and there at least Cccsar-worship was something of a reality and not a name. The military traditions of each legion A. H. p were loyal and steadfast, and attached by many ties to their camps. 210 The Earlier Empire. acquired of themselves an attractive force over the fancy of the soldiers, and provident clubs and guilds for social union grew up gradually among them, as we learn from inscriptions found in Algeria after the lapse of ages. They were also encouraged to deposit their savings in a sort of bank set up in their quarters, the funds of which were large enough to provide the needful means for the rising of Antonius against Domitian. The camps were also the best training-schools for the old-fashioned virtues of faithfulness, straightfor- The moral wardncss, and hardihood, and in them were foitere?in ^^ ^^ fouud the best typcs of the old Roman the camps by character, which, as moralists complained, were to be found elsewhere no more. If the funds of a country town had fallen into disorder, or uprightness was needed for a special post, the curator chosen by the government was often an old soldier, who had long been tried and trusted; and early Christian history throws, incidentally, a favourable light upon the moral qualities of the Roman officer. Those qualities were mainly formed by thoroughness of work and discipline. Besides the mere routine of drill, and all the exer- cises of a soldier s trade, the earthworks and intrench- ments of the camp, there was no lack of ^^^ constant labour. Their armies raised the great highways through miles of swamp and forest, spanned the streams with bridges, built dykes and aqueducts and baths, and taught the border races as much of the arts of peace as of the methods and ap- pliances of war. To save them from the monotony of garrison life and the temptations of unlettered leisure they had for the twenty years which was their mini- mum of service a healthy variety of useful work to call out their energy and skill. The second requisite of discipline varied more with The Frontiers and the Army. 2 1 1 the temper of the general in command. It was a singular feature of the first Csesar's habits of command that he was careless of common rules, and and disci- allowed much hcense to his troops, saying p*^"^- that * his men, perfumed as they were, could fight.' But his successors could not rely on the prestige of genius to inspire morale^ nor quell their mutinous soldiers with a word, and they drew the bands of discipline more tightly. The greatest generals were commonly the strictest, and themselves set, like Corbulo and Agricola, a marked example to their men. The worst, like Vitel- lius in his few weeks of command upon the Rhine, were lax and careless, and rapidly demoralized their armies. Next to the generals the most important influence on the temper of the soldiers was that of the centurions, for they might be harsh and overbearing and sorely try the patience of the men below them. They might be venal and exacting, and allow some to buy discharge from the com- mon duties of the camp, while unfairly burdening others. They might be quite incapable and owe their places to favour rather than to actual merit. Twice in the course of the period before us we have the spectacle of a complete breakdown of military dis- cipline, and it is instructive to compare the Two exam- facts of each. The first followed close on p'^^of^h^ breakdown the succession of Tiberius. Both on the of discipline. Rhine and in Pannonia the soldiers were in open mutiny, incited seemingly by the men who had most lately joined the standards, recruited from the city popu- lace after the fatal loss of Varus. The complaints put into their mouths are those of men who chafed at the stern drill of camp after the pleasures of the capital, who found the strictness of the centurions hard to bear, and looked forward with despair to twenty years of service, remembering the higher pay of the favoured praetorians p 2 212 The Earlier Empire. and their shorter term of years. The second was in the troublous year of 69, when so many rivals struggled for the post of honour. The armies had to assert their liberty of choice by naming each their Emperor, and the sources of discipline were thereby disturbed, while the drill and work of stationary quarters were suddenly exchanged for the license and the plunder of campaigns. They constantly broke out in mutiny against their leaders, and complained that the centurions were harsh or cruel ; and twice when they had made an Emperor they would not be denied the privilege of choosing all their officers at their caprice. But these were the rare exceptions of exciting times, and the legions commonly were loyal, and the Emperors careful of their welfare. They rarely received, indeed, the donative which the guards of the pilfsions of "^ capital could almost e.xtort at the accession of the soldiers ^ ^^^^ . y^^^ besides the pay, which was in itself a great burden on the imperial revenue, a special fund was formed in a sort of military chest to furnish pensions for the veterans who were discharged, and new sources of income were devised to meet the need in the form of a succession duty of five per cent, and of certain tolls levied in the markets. After the civil wars it had been common to plant mihtary colonies, and to find land for all the veterans. But it was found in time that they were sorry settlers and little suited to fieldwork, and the land passed and ynissio Speedily out of their hands. The system of iwnesta. pensions was, therefore, adopted in its stead. One further privilege we hear of, though only from the evidence of inscriptions graven on metal tablets found in various lands. They are the certified copies of the official document in which an honourable discharge was granted to deserving soldiers after the full term of service. It carried with it the full franchise to the provincials who Moral Standard of the Age. 213 filled the legions, and gave a Roman status to the worthy, as the Emperor's favour or a master's whim did to large numbers of a different class. tendency to believe that there was a moral de- cline in the first century of the Empire. CHAPTER XVIII. THE MORAL STANDARD OF THE AGE. If we think only of the most familiar of the social fea- tures of this period we may well form a low estimate of its moral worth, and say with Horace that the The natural men of his day were worse than the generation that had gone before, and were to be followed by an age still viler. The fearful spectacles of vice seated in high places with the Caesars; the sombre pages in which Tacitus portrays the selfish, cowardly, and luxurious nobles, vieing with each other in their praises of the rulers who were slaughtering them meantime as sheep; the passionate invectives of Juvenal, which imply that modesty and truth and honour had winged their flight to other worlds, and left the Roman in disgust to men without dignity and women without shame; the epigrams of Martial, which reveal the gross profligacy of the social circles which they were written to amuse; the novels of Petronius and Apuleius, reflecting the lewdness and the baseness of every class in turn ; and, weightiest witness of them all, the terrible indictment of the heathen world in the letters of St. Paul —these and other literary evidences are often thought enough to prove a moral decline in the early ages of the Empire. They may be also thought to show the demoralizing influence of despotism on men who in early days would have spent their lives in the public service, fc-aa'»fcj!^l8a»»VjM«-.)--tT--gi^-^'i«i.j.aai -,j 214 The Earlier E^npire. but who, losing their self-respect when freedom failed, turned to material pleasures to fill the void which politics had left. But before we accept such sweeping charges there are some pleas that may be urged, and should be weighed, in favour of a somewhat different conclusion. Satire can But(i) never be accepted as a fair portraiture of fair'Jvi!""' social manners. It dwells only on the bad dence. side of life, and ignores the brighter and the nobler scenes. It may be, though it rarely is, accurate and exact in what it says, but good and evil are so blended in all our motives, thoughts, and actions that the pen which draws only the evil out to view must needs distort and falsify all the complexities of our human life. Or if it tries, as it sometimes does, to paint the fairer scenes as a contrast to the darker, it isolates and overcolours, and so destroys the naturalness of both alike, as when the Roman writers found a foil for the vices of the city in the healthy simpHcity of country life, of ancient manners or of bar- barous peoples. But satire may be taken to show a more searching spirit of enquiry, a keener sense of the follies and vices of the age, a social unrest and discontent which point to a higher moral standard and may be the prelude 2. Juvenal to reform. Juvenal himself, from whom our vehement to pop^lar estimate is mostly taken, was too be fair. vehement to be accurate and fair. Soured, seemingly, by neglect and disappointment, struggling with poverty, though conscious of high talents, he fiercely declaims against the world that could not re- cognize his merits, and he is not very careful of justice or consistency. Each public scandal of the times, the profligate woman, the lewd paramour, the insolent up- start, the wealthy rogue, the pampered favourite of fortune, become at once the types of classes, and are so generalized as to cover almost all the society ot Rome. Moral Standard of the Age. 215 Nor must it be forgotten that most of the literary evidences before us— satirists, historians, and 3. Litera- moralists alike— reflect the life of a great ^ure deals . J ^ 11 T 1 /- , ^'th Roman City, and tell us little of the average morality life. of the Roman world. It was in that city that the Csesars paraded visibly the foul examples of their insolent license, and the temper of the court gave the tone to the social fashions of the capital. It was there that degrada- tion entered into the soul of the highborn, and drove them to forget the cares and shame of public life in the refinements of mere self-indulgence. It was there that the great extremes of poverty and wealth lived side by side with the least sense of mutual duty and mutual respect. The great fortunes of the world came to the centre of fashion to be spent, while the proletariat lived upon its public pittance or scrambled for their patrons' dole. It was there that the old moral safeguards of local religion, public sentiment, and national feeling had been most completely broken down in a motley aggregate of people to which every race had sent its quota. It was there that slavery reacted with most fatal force upon the temper of the master, and through the multitude offreed- men stamped upon the city populace the characteristic vices of the slave. In such a capital there was no lack of material for satire, and earnest minds were justified, perhaps, in think- ing that the inhabitants of Rome had never been so idle, dissolute, and corrupt. Pohtics had dwindled to the scan- dals of court gossip, and the sterner game of war, with its hardy virtues and its self-denial, had passed into the hands of provincials far away. The craving for fierce excitement might be sated by the sport with the wild beasts, and the poor gladiators might fight and bleed to show the Romans how their forefathers had died. But there was much in the life of the great city that was \ 2l6 The Eai'lier Empire. 4. Com- plaints about luxury need to be care- fully weighed. exceptionally morbid, and we surely must be careful before we generalize what we read about it. The satirists of the Empire dwell with especial force upon the increase of luxury in their time, and the spread of peace and of material ease caused without doubt a larger outlay on all sides. But the luxuries of one age seem the necessaries of the next. Civilized progress consists largely in changing and multiplying our common wants, the moral estimate of which varies with the standard of the times. If the animal nature is not pam- pered at the expense of the moral character and high thought, if the few do not unproductively consume the produce of the work of thousands, the moralist need not quarrel with the enlargximent of our human needs, which of itself becomes a spur to quickened industry. But some of the complaints in question deal with matters of passing sentiment and prejudice, with entirely con- ventional habits of dress and food and furniture, and their strictures on these points sound meaningless to modem ears. Even the things we look upon as the real gains of progress, such as the interchange of natural pro- ducts, the suiting to fresh soils and climates the growth of widely different lands, they stigmatized as the vanity of an insane ambition that would overleap the bounds ot nature. Much of what seemed to them luxurious excess would be now taken as a matter of course, and was only thought extravagant because of the simpler habits of a Southern race, which had a lower standard for its wants. For if we go into details there is little that exceeds or even rivals the expenditure of later times, unless, perhaps, we may except the prices given for works of fine art, or the passion for building, which, for a time, seized the Roman nobles, or eccentricities of morbid fancy as rare as they were portentous. Wealth was confined, indeed, Moral Standard of the Age. 217 within few hands ; but in the towns at least they spent largely for what they thought the common good, and baths and aqueducts, roads and temples were works to benefit the million. Culpable luxury, indeed, there was — selfish extravagance and idle waste— but every age has seen the same in all the great cities of the world. It is fair also to remember that the first century of the Empire had not passed away before a change is noticed for the better. We read in Tacitus that Vespasian's frugal habits had a lasting influence on the tone of Roman fashion. From his days he dates the spread of homelier ways, in which men followed the example of the court, while the provincials, from whom the Senate was largely recruited at the time, brought to the capital the inexpensive forms of simpler life. With these reserves we may accept the statements of the ancient writers for some at least of the social features of Imperial Rome, for the vices and the follies which they paint in such dark colours. But there is another side to be considered before a conclusion can be drawn. Philosophy had now become, for the first time in Ro- man history, a real power in common life, and where Christian influences were unknown it was the 5. Philoso- chief moral teacher of mankind. With Cicero a great m^rll it had given an uncertain sound, as if to excuse power, his own irresolute temper; it had furnished questions of interest for curious scholars, but no guiding star for ear- nest seekers. But in the mouths of the great teachers of the Stoic system it was very resolute and stern. It pointed to a higher standard than the will of any living Caesar ; it taught men to live with self-respect and to face death with calm composure. It had dropped its airs of paradox and the subtleties of nice disputes to become intensely practical and moral, to lead men in 2l8 The Earlier Empire, the path of duty, and give them hght in hours of dark- The case of ness. It is casy, indeed, to point to the in- Seneca. consistencies of a career hke that of Seneca, to the morahst defending the worst act of his royal pupil, to the rich man writing specious phrases in favour of homely poverty, to the ascetic training of the hard pallet amid all the splendours of the palace, like the hair shirt of the middle ages covered by the prelate's robe. But Seneca found strength and solace in the lessons of philosophy ; the greatness of his life begins when honours and court favour fail him, and he retires to meditate on the real goods of life and the great principles of duty. There, with a little company of chosen spirits, he can consult the books of the undying dead, and tranquilly reason on the experience of the past and the problems of man's destiny. Not content with the mere selfish object of saving his own soul, he gives his ear and earnest thoughts to the needs of other seekers round him, writes as the director of their con- science while they live still in the busy world, and tells them how to keep a brave and quiet heart among the trials of those evil days. The pages in which Tacitus describes the last hours of Seneca and many another deathbed scene ; the marked way in which he comments on the worldly levity of Petronius, who had no sage near him when he died ; the jealous suspicions of the Emperors, the writings of the moralists themselves, show that phi- losophy was a real power in the state, and not confined to a few thinkers. Nor was it at Rome, as in the old days of Greece, a Babel of discordant voices distracting serious enquirers by their disputes and contradictions. The Stoic system ruled at Rome for a time almost with- out a rival. The themes on which it reasoned were chiefly moral ; and hard and cold as we may think its teaching, it roused enthusiasm in those who heard it, and spread Moral Standard of the Age. 219 widely through the world. It had its spiritual advisers for the closets of the great, its public lecturers for the middle classes of the towns, its ardent missionaries who spread the creed among the masses, and preached in season and out of season too. Its popularity was a real sign of moral progress, for all its influence was exerted to counteract the real evils of the times. It placed its ideals of the wise and good far above the example of the Caesars, its thoughts of a ruling Providence above the deified despots of an official wor- ship. It met the gross materialism of a luxurious age by its lessons of hardihood and self-restraint. It made light of the accidents of nationality and rank, insisting chiefly on the rights of conscience and the dignity of manhood, and left us works that are of interest still in a literature in which the two most familiar names are one of an Emperor, the other of a slave. To correspond to influences such as these we may trace some changes in the tone of public thought. For foul and base as was so much in that old heathen world, which seemed to Christian eyes so hopelessly corrupt, yet were there elements of progress, and earnest cries for clearer light, and a feeling after better things, for God had not left Himself without a witness in the midst of sensuality and sin. In regard to slavery men speak and act with far more of real humanity. We need not insist, indeed, upon the passionate terms in which Juvenal brands the brutality of selfish masters, and pleads for the human rights of the poor sufferers, nor on the language in which the kindly- hearted Pliny speaks of the members of his household. But even at the beginning of the Empire it became a growing custom to give freedom soon to the domestic slaves, and the fashion spread so fast as to re- 6. The change of tone and thought on the subject of slavery 220 The Earlier Empire. quire to be checked and ruled by law. The wording of the epitaphs, the common literary tone, shows the rapid growth of kindlier feeling ; and the enforcement of the stern old law by which the slaves of a murdered master were all condemned to death caused a cry of horror through the city, and the fear of a rescue from the crowd, and other Other Suffering causes found a voice also in evils. Roman circles. Protests were heard against the cruel sports of the arena and the demoralizing sight of needless bloodshed ; the wrongs of the provincials were pleaded, not as a matter of prudence or of party politics, as by the orators of the Republic, but in the interests of humanity and order. The estimate of women's character was changing also. They had always, indeed, been treated with high 7. The regard, and had managed their households change in with dignity and self-respect. They had been the estimate 1 i. j • 1 1 i- /• of women's clothed With public functious as priestesses character. ^^^ N^s\.2\ Virgins, and had already gained by forms of law a kind of independent status. But the received type was somewhat severe and stern, with little of the grace and accomplishment of finer culture. ' To stay at home to spin the wool ' was their merit in their husbands' eyes ; and in the later years of the Republic moralists spoke with grave alarm of the gayer moods and freer tone imported with the latest fashions, and feared to see their wives copy the questionable society of Greece. Without doubt there were many who, like the Sempronia and the Claudia of the days of Cicero, aimed more at attractiveness than virtue, and too wantonly paraded their freedom from old-fashioned notions ; there were many in the early Empire who flung themselves without reserve into every kind of dissipation, and linked their names to infamy in the revels of the court of Nero. But it was found in time that grace and art need be no Moral Standard of the Age, 221 bar to chaste decorum, that women could be learned without being pedants, and study philosophy without affectation. At no time do we read of nobler women than in the days when satire handled them so coarsely; and, sad as are the histories of Tacitus, he has yet bright and stirring pages where he embalms the memory of a band of heroines who could sympathize with their husbands' highest thoughts, and sometimes even show them how to die. In earlier days there had been Roman matrons as dignified and chaste and brave, but the fuller blossoming of womanhood and a more many-sided grace were the growth of an age which we regard, at the first, as hopelessly corrupt and vile. In fine, there is one witness we may cross-examine if we will gauge the moral temper of the times. The younger Pliny lived partly in the period be- g r^^^ ^^j fore us and partly also in the next. He was dence of a no professional moralist, and had no thesis to in^pitny's"^ maintain, but his familiar letters reflect the ^^"^'■s- spirit of the circles, in which he moved, of the highest society in Rome. He owns, indeed, that he takes a kindly view of things about him, that he sees the merits rather than the foibles of his friends ; and the habit of drawing- room recitals tended perhaps, with certain classes, to form a tone of mutual admiration. Yet withal it is a most impressive contrast to the pictures of the satirist, and points to a real progress in the temper of the age. The society that could furnish so many worthy types of character, so many friends to sympathize with the genial refinement, the courtesy and tenderness expressed in Pliny's letters, had many an element of nobleness and strength to retard the process of decay. / 222 The Earlier Empire, ^ Religion seemed to be losing its hold on the Romans of education. CHAPTER XIX. THE REVIVAL OF RELIGIOUS SENTIMENT. Towards the end of the Republic religious sentiment seemed to have almost lost its hold on the world of fashion and of letters. The legends borrowed long ago with the arts and poetry of Greece had never flourished upon Roman soil. The product of a people's childlike thought, they could have little charm for colder minds in a later stage of national growth, and Greek philosophy helped to destroy what Greek fancy had created. Cicero and others of his time prized the honours of the priesthood, observed the forms of national worship, thought them useful for the masses, but cared little for its hopes or fears, and in familiar correspondence they The policy of seldom Speak of it at all. It was part of the Augustus to poHcy of Augustus to do honour to the national strengthen ... , i i • . . , the old reli- religion, and to strengthen his own imperial gion. dynasty by a sort of closer union between Church and State. He had shown little piety in earlier days, and was said even to have taken part in a blas- phemous parody of an Olympian banquet. But now at his bidding the temples rose on all sides from their ruins, the ancient rites were celebrated with a magnifi- cence long disused, and he became himself the highest functionary of the old religion. His successors were care- ful to follow in his steps, and the members of the Flavian Reasons why family, though they sought seemingly a sort left Suring ^^ consecration from the priests and sooth- traces, sayers of the East, did not on that account neglect the worship of their fathers. Did religion really 1. The le- gends might be given up without loss of religious faith. R evival of Religions Sentiment. 223 gain from this official sanction } We cannot tell, but we do see enduring traces of reviving faith. 1. It is true that we still hear caustic jibes at the old myths, and Juvenal tells us that none but children believed the legends of the poets ; but it was possible to give them up without much loss of reverence and faith. They had never had much hold upon the Latin mind, whose earlier creed was one of simple naturalism, or dealt with the abstractions of pure thought rather than with forms of personifying fancy. The venerable hymns and rituals still appealed to the devotion of the people and did not shock the inquiring reason. Polytheism is naturally so loose and undogmatic in its creeds that all were free to choose the elements that satisfied their thought or inclination, and none were driven into un- belief by the sweeping claims and threats of an intolerant priesthood. 2. There is this also to be noted, that the current philosophy of the early Empire was not revolutionary and flippant, as it often had been in the ^ r^^^ schools of Greece. It did not encourage a ofphiio- balance and suspense of judgment, like the earnStTnd academic thought of Cicero, but was in the ^^^0"^. mouths of Stoic doctors grave and earnest and devout, leading men to ponder on the great problems of life and to justify the ways of Providence. It saw elements of truth in all religious forms and language, and could find even in poetic fancies many a valuable symbol of the unseen world of faith and duty. It was soon to be raore tolerant and comprehensive still, to harmonize all creeds and systems, with one great exception, and by the help of mystic reveries and allegory to breathe a new spirit into the worn-out forms of paganism and to do battle only with the Christian faith. 224 TJie Earlier Empire. 3. Meantime the peaceful union of the nations brought with it an interchange and fusion of devotional 3. The in- ritcs, and the gates of Rome could not be troductionof j ^^ closed against the strange deities that new creeds *=> ^ .... j • i_ and rites. claimed the rights of citizenship and a niche in the imperial Pantheon. The Senate and magistrates of the Republic had more than once tried in vain to close the portals, and now the attempt was wholly given up, as new fashions in religion flocked from every land to find a home within the city. Sometimes it seemed little more than a mere change of name, when attributes and cere- monies were like those of home-growth ; but it was far otherwise with the Eastern Mithras and Astarte, the Egyptian Isis and Osiris, the strange rites of the Cory- bants, and the mystic orgies of Cotytto. These helped to naturahze new thoughts and feelings on Italian soil,— religious moods that passed from mysterious gloom to enthusiastic fervour, the idea of penitence and ascetic self-devotion as the condition of a higher life and of closer union with the Divine. They answered seemingly to some deep-seated cravings that had not been satisfied elsewhere ; they spread rapidly and became quite a power in social Hfe without disturbing the existing faiths, for the old and new lived peacefully together side by side, as saints newly canonized may take their place without prejudice to other venerable names. Under such influences the behef in a world unseen grows in intensity and earnestness; dreams and omens of all kinds have power to stir the credulous fancy; sooth- sayers, astrologers, and diviners reap their golden har- vests and meet a widespread want. 4. The literary tone, which a century before had 4. The been worldly, sceptical, and careless, be- changein comes eamest and oftentimes devout; and the htenry , , , ... ., tone. familiar letters show that religion was with most a matter of serious concern and a real motive-force Revival of Religious Sentiment. 225 in action. Among the historians Tacitus shows some recog- nition of the Divine Power that guides the world, and the will that sends its signs to warn us. Suetonius and Dion Cassius indicate the progressive fulness of belief, and weary us often with their long detail of constantly re- curring portents. In other writers, there is much talk of a spirit-world of ghostly visitors who go and come in startling guise and haunt the homes of murdered men. They believe seemingly in the power of magic to con- strain the forces of the unseen world, and make them use a fatal influence on the souls and bodies of the living. Numberless gradations are imagined between the infinite God and finite man, till all the universe is peopled with an endless hierarchy of supernatural agents. 5. We have another source of evidence of the extent of popular belief in the numerous inscriptions which en- shrine many of the most cherished feelings of ^ ^^^^^^ every social class and race. They point to the mental counUess thankofferings that grateful piety e^^^^^^^- had yet to give. Temples, altars, votive tablets were set up for centuries by pagan hands ; statues and pictures of the gods were still the objects of religious veneration; the worship of domestic lares or the ancestral spirits of the house leaves its trace on every monumental stone. The epitaphs attest in every variety of tone the hopes and fears of a life beyond the grave, and the yearn- ing sympathy of those still left behind. Even the old fancies of the poets, the legendary forms of Charon, Cerberus, and Pluto, linger still in popular memory and leave their trace in the language of the tombs. Many of the popular beliefs were strong enough to resist for ages the spread of Christian thought. Even when they seemed to yield they only changed their language and their symbols, and noiselessly maintained their ground in the service of devotional art. A. H. Q tt 226 The Earlier Empire. For when the final struggle came the religions of paganism died hard. With the early Empire a strong Paganism reaction had set in, growing constantly in died hard. intensity from the greater spiritual depth of Eastern creeds and from the mystical and moralizing tone of philosophic thought. INDEX. ACTA of the Senate, 189 Acte, 121 Actium, battle of, 5 iEdiles, 14 Africa, 202, 206, 208 Agrestis, Julius, 137 Agricola, Julius, 170, 211 Agrippa, Herod, 143 M. Vipsanius, 9, 22 25, 37 Postumus, 30 Agrippina, the wife of Germanicus, 53. 60 daughter of Germanicus, 68, 95, 100, 105, 123 Alexandria, 5, 80, 143, 150, 199 ; ship's crew of, 37 ; club at, 84 Ancyranum monumentum, 38 Anicetus, 104, 105 Antioch, 53 Antium, 80, 108 Antonia, 63, 72, 82 Antonius, M. , 2-5, 40, 146 Primus, 136, 138, 139, 143 S., 169, 210 Apol Ionia, i ApoUonius of Tyana, 170 Apotheosis, 42 Apuleius, 213 Aquileia, 142 Archon, title of, 182 Aricia, 178 Armenia, '11 9, 206 Arminius, 51 Arretium, 25 Arria, 113 Asiaticus, 136 Asinius Gallus, 62 Astarte, 224 Atellan farces, 194 Atticus, Pomponius, 195 ; daughtei of, 24 Augusta, title of, 49 Augustales, 198 Augustus, 1-42, 97 ; title of, n BAI.^, 104, 108, 184 ; bridge at, 74 Barea Soranus, 115 Bassus Lucilius, 137 Batavi, 144 Bedriacum, 131, 135, 137 Berenice, 143, 155, 156 Boadicea, 119 Britain, 170, 207 Britannicus, 96, 100, 104, 155 Brixellum, 131 Brutus, 3, 8, 9, 179 Burrhus, 100, H2 /^^CINA ALIENUS, 130, 131, ^ ^ . 134 Caenis, 151 Caesar, Julius, 1 ; title of, 11 Caesonia, 76, 8i Caledonia, 171 Caligula, 29, 66, 71-80 Caliistus, 88 Camillus, 87 Camalodunum, 119 Campagna of Rome, 203 Candidati Casaris, 15 Q 2 228 Index. Index, 229 Capreae, 61, 65 Cappadocia, 207 Cassius, C, 3 Chaerea, 80, 89 Cassius Severus, 36 Cato the elder, 55 M. Porcius, 179 Censoria potestas, 14 Cerealis, 165 Chaerea v. Cassius, Christians, no, 179 Chrysippus, 113 Cicero, 2, 198, 217, 220 Cilicia, 207 Cilnius Maecenas, 25 Civilis, 144, 145 Claudia, 220 Claudius, 81-99 Cleopatra, 5, 40 Colonia Forojuliensis, 209 Colonise, 182 Consularis potestas, 14 Corbulo, 115, 208, 211 Corduba, loi Corinth, 195 ; isthmus of, 74 Comutus, 113 Corybants, 224 Cotylto, 224 Crassus, 43, 195 Cremona, 137, 143 Cremutius Cordus, 58 DACIANS, 143, 168, 208 Dalmatia, 130, 208 Danube, 206 Decebalus, 167 Decuriones, 186 Delatores, 54 Delos, 203 Demarch, title of, 182 Demetrius, 152 Dictator, title of, 11 Diogenes, 158 Dion Cassius, 9, 29, 66, 106, 160, 201, 224 Chrysostom, 192 Domitian, 139, 144, 164- 6 Domitius Afer, 75 Ahenobarbus, 95, 99 ; Nero, 95 Druids, 179 Drusus, brother of Tiberius, 29, 43 son of Tiberius, 60 Duumviri juri dicundo, 185 EGYPT, s, 182, 208 Elbe, 206 Epictetus, 191 Epponina, 153 Euphrates, 208 FABIUS, PICTOR, 194 Felix, 88, 147 Flavian amphitheatre, 157 Sabinus, 139 Forojuliensis colonia, 209 GALEA, 120, 122-128 Gallia comata, 177 Germanicus, 46, 47, 51 Germany, wars in, 167 Gessius Florus, 147 Gracchi, policy of, 17 ; laws of Caius Gracchus, 178, 180, 201 Greece, depopulation of, 200 HELVIDIUS PRISCUS, i«. 153. 157 Helvetia, 130 Herculaneum, 162, 163 Hiero, 182 Horace, 27 TCELUS. 125 X Illyria,i43 Imperator, title of, 12 Isis, 40, 224 Jerusalem, siege of, 147 J Jews, 146, 147, 179 Josephus, 67, 148, 191 Julia, daughter of Augustus, 24, 30- 32 ; granddaughter, 32, 36 Julius Agrestis, 138 Agricola, 170 Caesar, i Sabinus, 153 Jus privatum, 177 ; honorum, 177 ; exilii, 178 Juvenal, 171, 183, 213, 214, 219 T ABIENUS,T..35,73 J—/ Laco, Cornelius, 64, 125 Lares, worship of^ 41 Latin right, 182 Leges: Papia Poppaea, 35, 201; Majestatis, 36, 178 ; Julia muni- . cipalis, 184 ; Salpensana, 184; Malacitana, 184 Lepida, 99, m Lepidus, 3 Lesbos, 24 Lingones, 144, 153 Livia, 20, 28-30, 46, 61 Livilla, 60 Livy, 75, 83, 194, 201 Locusta, 97, 104 LoUia, 96 Lollius, 33 Londinium, 119 Lucan, ii6-ii8, 179 Lucilius Bassus, 137 Lucrine Lake, 23, 88 LucuUus, gardens of, 94 Lugdunum, 98, 164 Lusitania, 129 MAECENAS, 8, 9, 25-28: gar- dens of, 45 M^cro, 63, 66, 72 Marcella, 24 Marcellus, M., 24, 29 Marcomanni, 168 Martial, 171, 183, 189, 213 Massilia, 178 Mauretania, 207 Messalina, 93, loi, 133 Misenum, 161, 208 Mithras, 224 Mithridates, 23 McEsia, 136, 206, 208 Mucianus, 142, 143, 164 Municipia, 182 Museum at Naples, 163 Musonius Rufus, 139 Mutina, 3, 7 NAPLES, 37, 184 Narcissus, 87, 95, 96, 97, 100, 141 Nemausus, 45 Nero, 99-122 Nola, 37 Noricum, ao6 Nursia, 7 OCTAVIA, sister of Octavius, 4 ; daughter of Claudius, q6, 100, 111 Octavius, I ; Octavianus, 4-10 Osiris, 40, 224 Otho, no, 126, 127, 128-132, 194 Ovid, 27, 36 PADUS, 135 1 Paetus Thrasea, 113 Palestine, 144 Pallas, 87, 95, 103 Pannonia, 23, 45, 130, 136, 168, 206, 208, 211 Papia Poppsa Lex, 35, 202 Parthia, king of, 71, 165 Paul, St., 178, 213 Paulina, 115 Perusia, siege of, 4, 23 Petronius Arbiter, 118-119, 191, 213, 218 Phaon, 121 Philippi, battle of, 3 Philo, 67, 191 Philostratus, 170 Phoebe, 32 Piso, Cn., 52 Cn., 117, 119 Frugi Licinianus, 126-128 Frugi, 181 Planasia, 30 Plancina, 52 Pliny the elder, 25, 161, 194, 201, 205 ; the younger, 161, 219, 221 Plutarch, 191, 202 Pollux, shrine of, 74 Polybius, the freedman, 88, 94 the historian, 200, 205 Pompeii, 69, 119, 160, 162, 185 Pompeius Magnus, 7, 146 Sextus. 4, 25 Pomponius Atticus, 195 Pontifex Maximus, office of, 14 Pontus, 23 Poor Law System at Rome, iSo Poppaea Sabina, 112, 114, 120, 128 Posides, 88 Praefectus, 16 ; urbi, 16 ; practorio, vigilum, annonae, 16 Praetor, 14 Primus, Antonius, 136, 138, 139, 143 Prince, titl« of, 13 Privy Council, 18 Proconsularis potestas, 14 Procuratores, 17 H 230 Index. Proscriptions, 3 Propertius, 27 Ptolemy, 182 Punic wars, 202 Puteoli, 37 ; bridge at, 74 Pythagoras, no QUiESTOR. 14 Quattuor viri juri dicundo, 185 Quinquennales, 186 Quintilius Varus, 33, 201, 211 RAVENNA, 137, 208 ^ Reate, 141 Remi (Rheims), 182 Rhodes, 43, 178, 195 Rusticus, 170 SABINUS FLAVIUS, 139, 141 Scribonia, 30 Sejanus, 59-64 Sempronia, 220 Sempronian laws, 178 Senate under Augustus, 17 Senatorial provinces, 19 Seneca, 28, 75, loo, loi, 106, 218 ; satire of, 97 Senecio, 170 Sequani, 153 Servilia, 115 Sextus Pompeius, 4, 25 Silanus, 52 Siiius, 94 Simon, sonof Gioras, 149 Soranus Barea, 115 Spain, 183, 208 Sporus, no, 120 Stabiae, 161 Statius, 171, 184 Stoics, 112, 166, 217, 223 Strabo, 67, 191, 199, 200 Suburra, 184 Suetonius, 67, 68, 88, 225 Sulla, 10, 51, 180 Sulpicius Galba, 120, 122-128 Syria, 119, 143, 147 TACITUS, 67, 111, 127, 131. 142, 146, 170, 172, 177, 190, 205, 213, 217, 218, 231, 225 Tacfarinas, 208 Terentia, 27 Tertullian, 205 Teutoburgiensis saltus, 34 Thebaid of Statius, 171 Thebes, 209 Thespiae, 200 Thrace, 207 Thrasea, 106, 113,116, 152 Thrasyllus, 45 Tiberius, the emperor, 43-171 ; me- moirs of, 171 Tiberius Gemellus, 74 Tibullus, 27 Tibur, 178 Tigellinus, no, 118, 120, 135 Tigranes, 43 Tiridates, 115 Titus, 142, 143, 147, 155-163 ; balhs ^ of, 157 Tomi, 36 Treviri, 144 Tribunicia potestas, 12 Trimalchio, n8 Tyana, 170 T TMBRIA, 141 T 7ALENS, F., 130, 134 V Valerius Asiaticus, 94 Valerius Maximus, 68 Varus Quintilius, 33, 201, 211 Vatinius, no Velleius Paterculus, 46, 68 Vergil, 27, 29 Verginius Rufus, 120, 124 Verona, 136 Vespasian, 107, 130, 136, 141-154, 217 Vesuvius, 119, i6o Vibius Crispus, 165 Vindex, 119, 122 Vinius, 125 Visurgis. 33 Vitellius, A., 127, 130, 133-140, 164, 191, 211 , L., 132 7ENODORUS, 157 Now in course of publication, uniform with Epochs of Modern History, each volume in fip. %vo, complete in itself Epochs of Ancient History: A SERIES OF BOOKS NARRATING THE HISTORY OF GREECE AND ROME AND OF Their Relations to other Countries at Successive Epochs. EDITED BY THE BEV. G. W. COX, M.A. AUTHOR OF THE 'ARYAN MYTHOLOGY,' 'A HISTORY OF GREECE,' &c. AND JOINTLY BY CHARLES SANKEY, M.A. LATE SCHOLAR OF QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD ; ASSISTANT- MASTER, MARLBOROUGH COLLEGE. 'T^HE SERIES intitled ' Epochs of History' had its origin -L in the conviction that for purposes of Education, or Study, a complete picture of any one important period of the World's history, carefully prepared and in an inexpensive form, is of more value than a mere outline of the History of a Nation. Spottiswoode 6- Co., Frinters, New-street Square, London. London, LONGMANS & CO. Epochs of Ancient History. The reception given to the volumes of this series already published on Modern History fully justifies this belief, and warrants its extension to what is usually known as Ancient Histor>', which, even more than Modern History, falls into clearly defined periods. 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